While You Were Sleeping
by Prynesque
Summary: 1x2 AU -- Duo is infatuated with Wufei, a stranger. After an accident, Duo is mistaken for Wufei's boyfriend and finds himself in a tangle of lies. To makes matters worse, now he's starting to fall for Wufei's enigmatic brother, Heero.
1. Chapter One

Title: While You Were Sleeping  
Author: Prynesque  
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap?  
Pairing: 1x2  
Rated: R  
Warnings: OOC (this is an AU – I think it's a given), some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV, possible Australian-isms.  
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.  
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).  
Notes: This story is AU so I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! This fic is based on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_ (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don't own it either. It's a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven't seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas.

Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator, is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled further and further into the life of Wufei's welcoming family. To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall in love with Wufei's enigmatic step-brother, Heero.

**Author's Notes: Ooops, I've done it again, haven't I? The whole 'starting-a-new-fic-before-the-others-are-finished' thing. Bugger. But this little plot bunny leapt into my head, camped out in my imagination and just wouldn't leave. **

**I've only got the first chapter done and I'm posting it to see if the interest is there. If you guys would like me continue this fic (as well as my others, of course) let me know and I'd only be too happy too. I really like the idea, although it's probably been done before, and would like to see where this goes. Hope you agree. Please review… don't leave me hanging here!**

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****While You Were Sleeping:**

Chapter One:

It's cold… mind numbingly cold; the sort of cold that seeps through ever layer of clothing, penetrating your very bones, making you think you'll never be warm again. Instant hypothermia. I'm not joking, it's _that_ fucking cold. But then it is December in Chicago… should I really be surprised that I can no longer feel my arse?

So, what the Hell am I doing out in this unseasonable weather? Well, believe me, if I had any choice in the matter, I'd be lying on a beach in Southern Italy, drinking margaritas and soaking up the rays. But seeing as my Fairy Godmother took a redundancy package years ago and moved to florida, and there is a steadily growing mountain of bills waiting to be paid, I'm at work.

I work for the Chicago Transit Authority but don't be fooled by the catchy title, in reality, I sit, day in, day out, in a ticket booth in a fairly grungy inner-city subway station, selling tokens to pushy commuters. And if you're thinking 'gee, that sounds like a fairly tedious job,' well, you'd be right; although, shitty and thankless are equally valid ways of describing it.

OK, so career-wise I'm a bit of a dud, but really that aspect of my life sparkles in comparison with the others.

I live alone, in a tiny, cramped, messy apartment. The landlord is a sleazy drunk, the heating is temperamental at best, and I suspect the plumbing is being occupied by the devil or, at the very least, his equally nasty younger brother.

The only company I have is a rather disgruntled cat who, on a good day, has the personality of Attila the Hun, and on a bad day… well, trust me, you don't wanna go there. I have no family, in the conventional sense of the word, and no significant other. In fact, I can't remember the last time I went on a date, so I think it's fairly safe to say that my sex life is hanging out somewhere below nil.

So that's three from three – at nearly thirty I have failed to achieve even one of the work-home-love trifecta. And as far as I can see, it probably ain't gonna get any better… this is as good as it gets.

The tinny voice of the radio announcer reminds me to have a happy festive season and hopes that all my Christmas dreams come true. Given that I'm still no where near that Italian beach, I'd have to say that he just isn't hoping hard enough. Christ, it's still a week and a half 'til Christmas and already I'm sick of the whole damn thing; Christmas in general can go to Hell in a hand basket for all I care. Duo Maxwell: Scrooge and failure at all things life-related… yep, that's me.

There are really only two things that make my life worth living. The first is Hilde Schbeiker. She's my best friend and she works in the ticket booth next to mine. I met her first day on the job; she was new too and we bonded over some mutual bitching about the unrewarding nature of our work.

We both had big plans back then; plans to go places, to see things, to do something… anything with our lives. She dreamed of being a dancer or a singer – a performer – and I dreamed of traveling the length and breadth of Italy, soaking up the magic of that country. But somewhere along the line, reality struck and those plans fell by the wayside, like the rest of my life. And we're still here. Secretly, deep down inside, we're both still clinging to those dreams, but I think we've pretty much accepted that they're never gonna happen.

Hilde's probably the only thing that keeps me sane in this place, which is strange given her complete lack of sanity. Just when I think I've reached the end of my tether and shoving a handful of tokens down the throat of the next person to arrive at my booth seems like a good idea, she'll flash me a wild grin or pull a ridiculous face or make a rude gesture behind the back of a customer and things will suddenly be dandy again… well OK, dandy's pushing it a little; tolerable is probably a better word.

In fact, she's grinning at me now, wiggling her eyebrows. I have to laugh. Even amidst the cold and the gathering gloom, she can make things bearable. Her next customer coughs pointedly and she turns away to serve him. As he walks away, she waggles her tongue at his back and gives him the finger. Good old, Hilde.

Number two on the list of reasons to keep breathing is slightly more complicated… you see, I don't even know his name. He's just a stranger… a perfectly wonderful stranger. He's a commuter and every weekday at 6pm he waltzes into my life and then out again on the next train; a dazzling ray of sunshine that pierces through the clouds of my humdrum life… OK, that's corny, I know, but sometimes there are just moments when sounding like a really bad greeting card seems appropriate.

My heart starts beating faster just thinking about him and it's usually leapt out of my chest and is doing acrobatic flips up and down platform 7 by the time 6pm rolls around and I get to see him again.

He's the classic tall, dark and handsome… well, OK, he's probably only medium-tall but he's got the dark and handsome bit in spades. Chinese, I'd say… all golden brown skin and pitch black hair. Lithe and elegant, he moves like a sleek black panther – all confidence and effortless grace. OK, better stop drooling.

I think I fell in love with him the moment I first saw him. I know what you're thinking, what's a cynic like me doing believing in love at first sight? But I swear that's exactly what it was, lightning bolts and everything. One moment, throwing myself under the train is a viable option and the next, there is he… standing there in all his tailored glory; it was like something out of a movie, or possibly a wet dream.

But you know, now when I imagine my perfect future, it's him and me, perfect together… we run away to Italy and live our perfect life surrounded by Italian beauty and red hot sunsets.

Hilde thinks I'm being an idiot and she's probably right. I mean, there are no fairytale endings in this world anymore. Disney staged a hostile take-over and now they are only leased out to saccharine 2-D cartoons voiced by famous Americans. But I can still dream, can't I?

I glance down at my watch. It's 5:45pm… nearly time. I turn away between customers, peering at my reflection in the glass walls of my booth. I frown. My hair is bedraggled and limp and my nose has turned an unattractive shade of red from the cold, sharp in contrast to my pasty skin. Great, he'll be here soon and I look like the 3rd ugly step-sister that was cut out of the movie because she might scare the children.

I grimace and try to make a few quick adjustments. Despite the cold, I remove my beanie (which is frightfully ugly and worn solely for warmth and comfort not style) and try to smooth my hair, tucking errant strands back into the customary braid. I look slightly less scary now… a minor improvement.

And then suddenly there is the jangle of change clattering in the metal dish and when I turn around there he is. Shit! He's early.

I'm granted a momentarily glimpse of those deep, dark eyes before he looks away. I wish I had the guts to say something… but I don't. Instead, I dumbly pass his token under the glass, watching, wide-eyed, as long, elegant fingers reach out and scoop it up. And then he's gone… disappeared into the crowd, lost until tomorrow.

I sigh dramatically and I can almost feel Hilde watching me from her booth and rolling her eyes. I purposely ignore her, turning back to my queue of rush hour commuters. They shuffle restlessly, impatient to get home. But my perfect stranger has come and gone, leaving me a bit down, and as I don't see any reason why any of these rude, pushy snobs should feel better than me, I am purposely slow. Their frustrated grumbles are something of a consolation.

That night after we've knocked off, I walk Hilde home. It's probably not strictly necessary… I mean, there are probably very few muggers out there with the balls to take on Hilde, but it's become a routine. We huddle together, arms linked as we face the cold wind; it whips past us, slicing through our multitude of layers, leaving us shivering against each other.

We bitch about our co-workers ("Marge reported me again, the bitch! How do you think she manages to walk around with that great fucking pole up her arse?" – Hilde) and about the customers ("This weedy bald guy called me a pansy fag so I asked him whether he was born with that dick on his forehead or if it was a recent acquirement. Do you think I'll get reported for that?" – Me) and eventually conversation turns to my perfect stranger. Well, OK, _I_ turn the conversation to him but Hilde didn't make any attempts to stop me… I think she's learnt that it's just eaiser to listen to my lovesick grumblings rather than try to fight it.

I'm in the middle of waxing lyrical about how kind and generous he is when Hilde snorts loudly, an unattractive, elephantine snort. "What?" I ask hotly, although I know exactly what's coming – we've had this conversation before.

"Kind-hearted and passionate and gives to charity?" she laughs. "How the Hell would you know? You don't even have the guts to say hello to the guy!" She breaks off into a peel of giggles and has to cling to me to stay upright. I wait, irritably, for her finish.

"I don't need to talk to him to know he's a decent guy!" I retort. "You can tell just by looking at him!"

For some reason this makes her laugh even harder. I growl. Obviously she's got no idea! Probably never even been in love. I feel sorry for her boyfriend, Alex, to have been lumped with someone whose sense of romance is on par with the size of George Bush's brain – that is, virtually non-existent.

Finally, she pulls herself together enough to speak. "Well, you're gonna need to talk to him eventually if you want to stand a chance of getting laid," she says matter-of-factly.

I harrumph. "I _will_ talk to him… eventually," I tell her. "I'm waiting for the right time."

"Sure you are, stud!" she laughs as we arrive outside her apartment. "You wanna come up?" she asks. It's tempting. Her heating works and if I'm lucky Alex will be there – he makes a mean lasagna. But then, I'm sure they have better things to do with their time than make pasta for a friend who misplaced his life about ten years ago.

"Nah, I'd better get home. Make sure Attila hasn't invaded any small, defenseless countries in my absence."

Hilde laughs, knowing full well that my cat would be perfectly capable of conquering most of Europe if he put his mind to it. "M'OK, I'll see you tomorrow." She leans up and kisses my cheek and then disappears into the apartment building, leaving me alone on the icy sidewalk. I smile. Hilde's like the sister I never had… which is probably why we fight so much.

As I walk home, I make a silent promise to myself. I will talk to my perfect stranger before the week it out… that gives me three days to get a set of balls. Shit, I'm trembling with nerves just thinking about talking to him. I'm so fucking pathetic, it's not even funny any more. Come on! What have I got to lose?… it's not like there are any other Prince Charmings out there waiting to sweep me off my feet. Tomorrow I will talk to him! And failing that, definitely Thursday… Friday at the latest.

* * *

Predictably, my courage takes a mid-week vacation and Wednesday and Thursday both drift past agonizingly slowly with no dazzling attempts at conversation on my part. Time seems to be moving a snails pace, which tends to happen when you work in a job as monotonous as mine, and by the time Friday rolls around (deadline day) I'm tired and grumpy; things are made even worse than usual by the fact that Hilde has taken the day off… something about being so sick with flu that she couldn't move – come on! This job doesn't exactly require much movement, I mean, dead people could do it and I doubt anyone would notice (although I'm fairly sure the union wouldn't be impressed). Her booth sits vacant, mocking me, and the only company I have is the booth on my other side, occupied by the cantankerous, overbearing Marge. She hates me and when she's not sneering derisively in my direction, she's telling the manager that I've been offending the customers again, even if all I did was blow my frigging nose. I glare at her, just for the Hell of it. She catches me and I can see her making a mental note to rat on me. Bloody Marge. 

With Hilde away, I'm relying solely on my perfect stranger to get me through the day. It's only noon and suddenly six o'clock feels like it's light-years away. The day drags on and on, so slow that I start to wonder if Time is having a sick day as well. Mid-afternoon, however, just when I'm nearly unconscious with boredom, Marge gets called a fat cow by an obnoxious teenager after she gives him the wrong change and my sniggering does manage to gleefully occupy me for about ten minutes. Another mental note from Marge.

As darkness falls, the rush hour commuters pour into the station, hustling and bustling as though pushing harder will make things happen faster. I vainly search for my perfect stranger among the throng but he's disappointingly absent and I'm left feeling despondent. I wait listlessly for my shift to end so that I can go home and curl up in bed with a bottle of whiskey and watch mindless TV… Oooh, I wonder if _Survivor_'s on?

Just as knock off time is approaching, God sees fit to shine down me (about frigging time) and suddenly that familiar face is striding towards me. Right on cue, my heart stops beating. His hair is pulled back in a neat, glossy, black ponytail and his suit oozes wealth and taste. However this evening his face is thunderous, black and foreboding like the clouds overhead, and his movements are slightly stiff with repressed anger. He looks severely pissed off but as he approaches, I see an underlying sadness in his eyes. I feel an overwhelming urge to leap out of my booth and gather him in my comforting arms.

Heart in mouth, I serve him, my fingers shaking slightly. This is it. End of the week… time to make good on my promise. Come on, Duo, just open your frigging mouth and say something… anything!

I slide his token across to him, ready to dazzle him with my charm and wit or to console him with my compassion and depth, but I've only opened my mouth halfway when his fingers close around the token and he swings away from me, moving down to the platform. My heart sinks. Idiot, Duo!

I am in the middle of banging my head against the glass wall of the booth in frustration when a trio of hooligans come hurtling towards me. All baggy pants and chains, they take a flying leap over the barrier, just clearing it. They plunge down the platform, scattering the few people that are waiting for the next train.

My perfect stranger, who is staring into space, doesn't notice them until it's too late. He jerks away from their path but he's not quick enough and they plow into him. And suddenly everything is in slow motion. He falls backwards, his head hitting the sharp edge of the platform with an ominous crack. Gravity propels him onwards and he tumbles over the edge and down onto the tracks.

My heart skips a beat as I watch, helpless, and then rumbling in the distance, is the clattering sound of an approaching train.

In a flash, everything is moving at real time again, if not in fast-forward. A woman shrieks in horror and then there is a scramble of feet as the hooligans high tail it down the platform; a business man in a cheap suit chases after then in vain. A train whistle sounds, drawing closer and closer and before I know what I'm doing, I've flung open the door to my booth and am half way down the platform.

My perfect stranger is sprawled across the tracks, blood oozing from his head in a dark, sickly river. Adrenaline takes over and suddenly I've leaped off the platform. I land with a heavy thud on the tracks, the shock jarring my legs with pain.

Above me, there is a hoarse cry, and then pale faces are peeing down at me from the platform. One of them is saying something, yelling something, but all I can hear is that train whistle.

Now I can see the train. It's gliding towards me like a long, smooth silver snake. A sense of impending doom washes over me, rooting me to the spot. The train is scarily close now and the whistle blares again, followed by a loud, metallic screech as the brakes are applied. The sound jolts me out of my panic-induced haze and I realise that it's too late for that, it'll never slow down in time; if I don't move myself and my perfect stranger now, it'll plow right into us and we'll be nothing but mush on the tracks.

Things are back in slow motion again as though time itself is trying to slow down in synch with the train; what feels like an eternity is really only a few seconds, and still the train keeps on coming.

I grab my perfect stranger under his arms, hauling as hard as I can. For someone so lithe and sinuous, this guy weighs a fucking ton. My arms are trembling with the strain and I seem to be achieving very little.

Just as the train is bearing down on top of us, I change tactics, throwing myself down on top of him and wrapping my arms and legs around his torso. I heave his weight against me, rolling with all my might. And finally there is movement. We roll together, a tangle of limbs, until we hit the side of the platform with a dull thump.

And then the train is on top of us, rattling past like a hurricane, threatening to pull us beneath its wheels. I hang onto my perfect stranger for dear life. It's the scariest thing I've ever experienced and I'm paralyzed with fear.

And suddenly the rushing wind is fading and the deafening roar of the train has passed. I slowly relax my death grip on my perfect stranger and he rolls away from me, his head lolling to the side like a rag-doll.

I can't believe we've survived. Above me, faces are swarming in and out of focus. I feel sick… I can actually feel the bile rising in my throat. My breath comes in ragged gasps and I'm shaking so hard that I feel like I'm having a fit. I grope blindly for my perfect stranger's hand, and when I find it, I twine my fingers through his, trying to ground myself.

The next moments are a complete blur to me. Suddenly I'm on the platform again, though I'm not sure how I got here, and a paramedic is standing before me. I realise belatedly that he is trying to untangle my hand from my stranger's. I let go reluctantly.

The paramedic, John, his nametag informs me, grips me by the shoulders and stares into my eyes. "Do you want to accompany him to the hospital?" he asks me.

I nod dumbly and allow him to maneuver me into the back of the ambulance. I sit on a thin, narrow cot. My perfect stranger lies opposite me, looking even darker against the white of the sheets. I want to take his hand again, to reassure myself that he's alive, that I'm alive, but John is hovering over him, yelling something to driver… complicated medical words that I don't understand.

We pull into the ER and I'm bundled out. There are people rushing everywhere… doctors, nurses, hysterical patients. The trolley bearing my perfect stranger is hurried away by a rather formidable-looking matron and suddenly I'm alone in the crowded waiting room.

I sit heavily on the nearest chair, wondering if this is just all some horrible dream. Opposite me, a young girl pitches forwards and is sick all over the floor, and to my left, a young man groans, clutching his arm which it has been pierced by a screwdriver and is oozing blood everywhere. Their sounds of pain are enough to assure me that this is all real.

Slowly my brain starts to function again and the shock begins to wear off. I take a deep breath and allow my head to drop backwards to rest against the cool cream wall. I close my eyes and try to block out the sounds of the hospital around me.

Four hours later and it's fairly clear why this is called a waiting room. I'm bored and restless and it's beginning to get to me. I try to flag down a nurse but she has more important people to tend to. The man to my left has been lead away to be de-screwdrivered, but the little girl is still here; she's been given a bucket but the sound of her retching still echoes around the room, mingling with other cries of pain and frustration.

Finally, a round, cheerful nurse passes my way. She is fairly young, probably only a few years older than me, but she has a motherly face and her plump arms look like they'd be good at comforting. Her nametag reads: Nurse Jones and she is certainly more approachable than some of the other nurses wandering around, who wear expressions that wouldn't be out of place in an S&M video.

I call out to her and she moves across towards me, swerving around a middle-aged man that has turned an attractive shade of greeny-grey. "Can you help me?" I ask.

"What's your name, hon?" she asks.

I tell her automatically and watch as her gaze flickers down to the clipboard in her hand. "Duo Maxwell…" she murmurs. "I'm sorry, you're not on my list, when did you come in?"

"About four hours ago. I came in the ambulance with my friend…" I stumble over the word 'friend,' wondering if I really have the right to call a stranger my friend. "He fell onto the train tracks and hit his head," I explain. "Can you tell me what happened to him?"

She looks down at her clipboard and her face lights up in recognition and then sympathy. "Oh, yes… Wufei Chang," she says.

I'm stunned. After nearly a year of watching from afar, my perfect stranger has a name. Wufei Chang.

I realise she's speaking again. "The medics told us what you did… we all think you're terribly brave," she says warmly. Her eyes twinkle and her cheeks dimple when she smiles.

I want to tell her that it wasn't bravery at all, just pure instinct and that anyone would have done the same, but when I open my mouth, what comes out is, "Is he alright?" and then, "Can I see him?"

"He's stable," she tells me, though I'm not entirely sure what that's supposed to mean. "And I'm afraid I can only let family in at this stage."

I give her my very best pleading 'puppy dog eyes.' Sister Helen once said that I could win over even the devil with that look and it seems to be working on my friendly nurse as well; she wavers slightly, biting her lip in indecision. I move in swiftly to finish the job, grabbing her plump hand in mine and staring up at her. "Please, nurse… I need to see him… please?"

I squeeze her hand for good measure and success! She relents with a sympathetic smile. Glancing around, she turns back to me. "Alright, but just for a minute." She leads me down a stark white corridor. Doctors in white coats and surgeons in blue scrubs bustle in and out of rooms; they are occupied with being busy and don't notice a fat nurse and a skinny man furtively stealing down the passageway.

We pause outside a door and Nurse Jones rests her hand on the handle. "I really shouldn't be doing this…" she begins.

Oh no, a voice in my head says. You can't back out now! I grasp her hand again and stare into watery blue eyes. "Thank you," I whisper encouragingly. She smiles again, patting my arm with her free hand, and then pushes it open. She releases my hand and moves out of the doorway to let me pass.

My perfect stranger who's real name is Wufei Chang, is lying on the bed in the centre of the room. His head is bandaged and there are numerous tubes connecting him to various beeping machines. He looks much smaller, much more fragile than I remembered.

I swallow heavily, trying to muster up the courage to enter the room. Pathetic, huh? I can stare down a train to save this guy but I can't even go into a hospital room to see him?

Nurse Jones' hand rests comfortingly on my shoulder and I feel grounded by her reassuring presence. "He's in a coma," she tells me gently, bending close as though divulging a secret. Coma… it's a pretty fucking scary word. It lingers in the air, thick and heavy. I swallow again and it feels like something is caught in my throat.

Nurse Jones gives me a little nudge, the encouragement I needed, and I shuffle across the room to the bedside. "I'll be back in a moment," she says, understandingly, and then is gone.

I turn back to Wufei, bending at the waist so that I'm just mere inches away from him. I peer at his chest and am relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his breathing. When I take his hand in mine once more, it's warm and now I know for sure that he's definitely alive. I exhale the breath I didn't even know I was holding.

For several minutes I just stand there, holding his hand, staring down at his unconscious form. I don't really know what I'm supposed to be feeling… I feel awkward and out of place, like a stranger… which, of course, I am.

I smooth a strand of dark hair off his forehead with my free hand. His hair is not as soft as I thought it would be, but smooth and greasy from being slicked back. I'm not sure why, but I'm slightly disappointed.

I clear my throat uncomfortably, wondering whether to leave or not. This wasn't how I'd imagined it. In the waiting room, I dreamed that his face would light up when I walked into the room. I'd run over to the bed and take him in my arms and he would thank me over and over for saving him and then would declare his undying love for me. Well, I did have four hours to come up with this.

But in reality, he's lying unconscious in a stark, alienating hospital room and I feel like an intruder, helplessly watching over him.

But I can't leave… not yet. I swallow my discomfort and shuffle closer so that my thigh is pressed against the neat white bedspread. I seem to remember hearing that you should talk to people in comas… it helps them to wake up or something. I suppose it makes sense really, but still as I open my mouth to speak to my perfect stranger for the first time, I feel a bit ridiculous.

"Hi, I'm Duo… Duo Maxwell." I wince; my voice sounds so weak and pathetic in this empty room. I bite the bullet that I never had the guts to bite before. "I'm in love with you," I whisper to him. "I'm sorry, I never told you… I was scared, I guess. But I do love you. And you have to wake up so we can run away to Venice together…" I trail off, feeling stupid. I wonder if he can hear me. God, I hope not. This is so not how I had imagined our first conversation… for starters, in my dreams, he was always conscious.

There is a muffled sniff from behind me and I whirl around. Nurse Jones is standing in the door way with tears in her eyes. Her expression is slightly dreamy. "Oh, that is _so_ sweet!" she cries.

I'm slightly confused and I wonder how much she heard. Before I have a chance to speak, there is a sudden commotion in the hallway beyond. Nurse Jones scuttles into the room, planting herself beside me. She is followed by a short, balding doctor, dressed in a long white coat and wearing a stern expression, and a tall woman of about 35. She has long brown hair tied in two peculiar-looking bunches. Her face is pinched and she gasps when her eyes land on Wufei. She pushes past the doctor, stopping only when she sees me.

Behind her, two more figures appear. One is tall, with red-brown hair swept across his face, hiding deep green eyes. The other is shorter and blonde, with a caring face that is twisted in fear. The doctor coughs pointedly. "I'm sorry… family only!" he says.

The woman clicks her tongue. "Oh, for Christ's sake, they are family!" she snaps without turning around. Her eyes are still fixed on me. "Let them in!" she adds. The two men edge forwards into the room, flanking their companion. Their eyes fall first on Wufei and then, like the woman before them, shift to where I'm standing.

"Who are you?" the woman asks, perplexed. Behind her, the doctor's eyes are asking the same thing. His gaze turns to glare at Nurse Jones. I feel strangely protective of her, grateful for her compassion in letting me in. I move slightly in front of her.

My gaze flickers back to other three and beneath their stares, I am uncomfortably aware that I am still holding Wufei's hand. I'm trying to think of something to say when Nurse Jones speaks on my behalf. "This is Duo Maxwell, Mr Chang's boyfriend." Three sets of eyebrows rise.

And then so do mine. In fact I think my eyes might be boggling as well. I suddenly realise just how much she heard and the conclusion she reached, and now the dreamy expression is explained – she's one of those straight women who find gay men unbelievably adorable.

At the same time as this train of thought is being processed, a shrill little voice, which sounds remarkably like a pissed off Hilde, is screaming at me to correct the misassumption, tell the frigging truth now before this all gets out of hand, but I ignore it; my thoughts have shifted and now all I can think of are Nurse Jones' words. I repeat them over and over to myself, like a restless mantra… _Mr__ Chang's boyfriend_… _Duo Maxwell, Mr Chang's boyfriend_… It sounds so perfect, so natural… like it was meant to be! Oh, how much I wish it were true!

"I didn't know Wufei had a boyfriend." It's the short blonde who speaks. He looks confused, fine blonde eyebrows coming together above deep aqua eyes. "Sally?" he asks, turning his head slightly to the woman at his side.

The woman, who I presume must be Sally, is still staring at me when she answers. "Neither did I. He never said anything to me." She sounds vaguely hurt, like someone who is used to being confided in. She gaze flickers sadly down to Wufei and then back up to me.

_Tell them the fucking truth_! The voice shouts at me, sounding more and more like Hilde with every word. And of course, the disembodied voice of Hilde is right – I should just tell the truth now before this rattles out of control like a runaway train, but for some reason everything time I move to speak something lodges in my throat, preventing me. Something inside me, quite possibly my inner child, keeps holding me back. This might be my only chance to be something to this man that has been everything to me. I'm not ready to give that up yet. I can't…

Sally and the blonde both turn to the tall, dark man, oblivious to the debate raging in my head. He doesn't speak but he does give a little half shrug, his one visible green eye twinkling at me.

Behind them, the doctor is waiting in the wings, observing the entire interaction with a strange sense of fascination. He seems to recognize that this isn't the moment for him to start talking. Or possible he's too busy wondering how our little drama will play out.

"Oh wait, I think I remember something…" the blonde says, surveying me; those aqua-blue eyes seem to bore into me. Finally his gaze settles on my braided hair, which is hanging down over my shoulder, and then a light of remembrance shines behind his eyes. "I think I remember Wufei asking me what I thought of long hair on men..." he trails off and then all three of them are staring at my hair.

That seems to be enough to convince the blonde, and I get the impression that he's a very trusting, honest soul. Amist my lies, I feel drawn to him. "I'm Quatre Winner, by the way," he says, stepping forwards and holding his hand out to me. The other two watch this bold first move, waiting for my response.

I release Wufei's hand, lowering it gently back to the mattress. To my right, Nurse Jones signs happily, reminding me that she's still there. I step forwards crossing the brief distance between us and grip Quatre's hand instead. It's a warm, firm handshake, strong and comforting and welcoming all at the same time. He instantly makes me feel at ease and I take an immediate liking to this man.

"This is Trowa Barton," Quatre introduces me to the tall, dark who nods at me. He doesn't smile exactly, but the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly and his eyes twinkle as though they are laughing at something that only he is privy too. He strikes me as the strong, silent type but I bet there is more going on in his head than most people realise.

Quatre casts him an indulgent smile and then turns back to me. "And…" he begins.

"Sally Po," the woman interrupts. She is still staring at me, eyes slightly narrow. She's not quite convinced yet, still suspicious; still trying to put her finger on whatever it is that doesn't quite feel right about me. But in the end she sets her doubts momentarily aside and shakes my hand readily enough. "Sorry, what was your name again?" she asks.

"Duo Maxwell," Nurse Jones says for me. "He was the one who saved Mr Chang's life. Dragged him right off the tracks. Could have been killed too!" She proceeds to give them all the gory details. It sounds far more dramatic when she tells it and I almost feel like I'm listening to a good story rather than something that actually happened to me.

When she's done, Sally is looking at me with a rather peculiar expression on her face – a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. She peers deep into my eyes, searching for something. Apparently she finds it because she stands back, finally looking satisfied. A wide smile blooms on her face and she suddenly looks much younger and less harried.

She reaches out to me and grabs my hand, dragging me closer into a hug. "Thank you!" she whispers, her breath ghosting over my ear. She pulls away as suddenly as she grabbed me, looking slightly abashed at her outburst. She smoothes her shirt reflexively. "It's very nice to meet you, Duo," she says sincerely, smiling again.

And it's a smile that I can't help returning. I feel all warm and slightly fuzzy inside. And now I'm beaming at all of them, even Nurse Jones. Suddenly, even if it is only for this one brief moment, I am Duo Maxwell, Wufei Chang's boyfriend… and I almost believe it myself.

The tall, balding doctor is still standing in the corner, observing our soap-operatic antics, but now he steps forwards and clears his throat, an irritating little 'hem-hem,' the sort that sends uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

We all turn to look at him, but it is Sally's gaze that he returns, singling her out as the only true family member and ignoring the rest of us. "How is he?" she asks, bluntly.

The doctor seems a little taken aback by her directness and is momentarily unsure how to proceed. "It's complicated, Miss Po…" he begins eventually.

"It's Dr Po," Sally interrupts him, casting him a warning glance. "And I think I can handle whatever you've got." Straightforward with a low bullshit tolerance; I think I like this woman.

The doctor clears his throat again in that same irksome fashion. I get the impression that he doesn't really like dealing with women like Dr Sally Po; he finds them intimidating. "He was stabilized upon arrival, but lapsed into a coma shortly after. We're still waiting on the results of the brain scans," the doctor says, followed by a rather long stream of medical jargon. Sally nods sporadically, looking simultaneously grave and hopeful, and interrupts with a list of complicated medical terms of her own. The Doctor frowns at the challenge.

The rest of us wait in silence for them to finish their battle of words. Quatre catches my eye and I'm relieved to see that I'm not the only one having difficultly following their conversation.

Finally the doctor leaves, looking slightly peeved and immensely relieved. As he disappears, Nurse Jones pats my arm and smiles at me. She departs as well, after checking Wufei's machines and generally fussing around the room a bit.

And now it's just the four of us. A heavy, uncomfortable silence develops between us, hanging in the air, broken only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. None of us are really quite sure where to go from here.

Finally, it's Sally who speaks first. "Well, shall we all sit down, then?" she suggests, plonking herself down on the edge of Wufei's bed, nudging his legs over slightly; the movement of someone that could only be family.

Quatre smiles at the gesture. "Actually, I'm dying for a coffee," he says. It sounds suspiciously like an excuse to me; whether it's to give Sally and me some time alone together with Wufei or not, I don't know.

Quatre's tall, dark friend – Trowa, was it? – nods and sidles up behind Quatre. "I'll come with you," he says, speaking for the first time since his arrival. Quatre smiles up at him and I find myself wondering what exactly the nature of their relationship is. A moment later, a long arm snakes around Quatre's waist and Trowa drops a gentle kiss in his blonde hair.

Right… so, more than just friends. No wonder they weren't shocked by the thought of Wufei dating a man.

They leave the room together and I find myself smiling at their closeness, a warm, dreamy sensation blooming in my stomach; now I feel like Nurse Jones. I wonder if Wufei and I will be like that when he wakes… and then I stop suddenly as I remember that Wufei isn't really my boyfriend.

Reality comes crashing back around me and now the guilt is beginning to set in. But still I don't tell the truth. Somewhere deep inside me, my skewed sense of logic is telling me that if I pretend hard enough, it'll be true.

I collapse into a lumpy chair on the other side of the bed. Sally seems to mistake my guilt for melancholy because she smiles reassuring at me.

"So, how long have you known Wufei?" she asks after a moment, making a brave stab at conversation.

I'm relieved by her choice of words. It's a question I can answer without actually lying. Sure, maybe I might be omitting the odd detail but that's not exactly a lie, right? "About a year?" I say truthfully, after all, Wufei has been coming to my booth for about that long. I wonder if she can hear the quiver in my voice.

She doesn't. "And have you been together all that time?" is her next question. With someone else, this questioning thing could feel a little bit like the Spanish Inquisition, but Sally seems very laid-back; she doesn't make me feel like I'm on the stand.

"No, it's a much more recent thing," I say. Like about twenty minutes… I have to bite my tongue to keep that from slipping out.

"Oh, that's nice," she concludes, and then winces as though that hadn't really been what she had intended to say. She looks a little lost as though she wants to continue but can't quite think of what to say next.

I take pity on her and ask a question of my own. "So, are you his sister?"

She casts me a confused look, laughing. "Um… no, I'm not. Did Wufei never talk about his family?"

"No, we never talked about family," I confirm. And it's a partial truth. We did never talk about family… of course, we never talked period. I realise the lies are starting to come easier now and I'm not sure whether to be worried by that or not.

"Yes, I suppose Wufei _could_ be rather secretive when the mood took him." Sally sounds almost wistful. "Anyway, I'm just a cousin, not a sister. But really, I might as well be. My parents died when I was very young and my uncle took me in. Wufei is the closest thing I have to a brother and the only family I have left… along with Heero, of course."

"Who's Heero?" I ask before I can stop myself. I wonder vaguely whether grilling this woman while she's sitting at her cousin's bedside is perhaps an insensitive thing to do. But she doesn't seem to mind.

"Heero is Wufei's step-brother. And mine, too, I suppose. My uncle married Heero's mother after the death of his first wife. They both died several years ago, though." I make sympathetic noises and then wait for her to continue. When she does, it's with a laugh. "We're a bit of an odd family, I suppose… Wufei and Heero and I." She smiles to herself.

"And Quatre and Trowa?" I ask, curiously.

"Wufei and Heero were at high school with Quatre. Inseparable, the three of them… And then Wufei and Trowa were room-mates at college… and of course once Quatre and Trowa met… well, it was fate, some might call it. Yes, we're a bit of an odd group, an odd little family circle."

"No, I like a broader definition of family – the people you love, who love you… not just the people you happen to share blood with…" I smile, thinking of Sister Helen and Father Maxwell and Hilde – my family… and not a shared drop of blood between us.

Sally smiles at me, looking pleasantly surprised, as though she wasn't really expecting to connect with me but is rather glad that she has. "Yes, that sounds like how it should be," she agrees and I find myself blushing.

I'm about to speak again, when suddenly the door is flung open, hitting the wall with a dramatic thud.

I turn to see a man, standing just outside the doorway. My gaze takes in the wild, chocolate-brown hair and the piercing blue eyes. I know, instinctively, that this must be Heero.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well, there we go then... chapter one down. So what do people think? Worth devoting more time too? Please review - I could probably arrange fairy bread and sparklers for those who do!**


	2. Chapter Two

Title: While You Were Sleeping  
Author: Prynesque  
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap?  
Pairing: 1x2  
Rated: R  
Warnings: OOC (this is an AU – I think it's a given), some swearing, lime/lemon, possible Australian-isms.  
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.  
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).  
Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator, is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled further and further into the life of Wufei's welcoming family. To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall in love with Wufei's enigmatic step-brother, Heero.  
Notes: This story is AU so I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! This fic is based on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_ (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don't own it either. It's a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven't seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas.

**Author's Notes: Well, here we are again… Chapter Two. Sorry, it's been a while coming, but I swear I have been really busy – sometimes Real Life just decides to explode in your face. Argh! Damn university! Whose idea was it to go there anyway? Oh right, mine… bugger! Still, I refuse to take the blame. And why is it that all my work is due at exactly the same time? I mean, to the lectures just get together at the beginning of the semester and work out a timetable that is the least convenient and most stressful it could be? Or am I just going mad? Actually, better not answer that one.**

**Anyway, enough of my waffling/complaining (because if you let me go on, we'll seriously be here for hours).**** Read on and enjoy Chapter Two. Three is in the works but don't hold your breath for it in the immediate future – I have an essay to write beforehand (although not writing it and going to movies instead is sounding like a great idea at the moment… bad Pryn! Must work! Must work… must… work?)**

**Oh, and review? Please? With sugar and all that on top? **

* * *

**While You Were Sleeping:**

Chapter Two:

Heero pauses in the doorway. His breathing is slightly laboured as though he has been running but he shows no other outward sign of physical exertion, in fact he shows no outward sign of anything at all. For the briefest of moments, he seems almost robotic, as though someone that collected, that emotionless, couldn't possibly be human.

He surveys the room calmly and coolly, taking in Wufei first, then Sally and finally his gaze is on me. His face is perfectly blank, not puzzled or confused like the others' had been, but he pauses briefly, sharp eyes boring right through me.

I suddenly realise how I must look to him: this strange man with a metre long braid that clings to the curve of his spine, short and skinny, all angles and restless limbs. It suddenly seems so very obvious that I don't belong in this room with these people who exude wealth and charm and style. I flush automatically, a knee-jerk reaction in the face of such a reality.

Perched on the edge of Wufei's bed, Sally looks sophisticated and professional in a caramel-coloured pants-suit; she a woman brimming with confidence and ability. Still in the doorway, Heero cuts a bold, intimidating figure in a black suit, all crisp, clean lines; he radiates strength, self-assurance and something else that I can't quite pinpoint. Even Wufei, lying prone on the narrow hospital bed, still retains that grace and elegance that always fascinated me.

And then there's me… my boots are so scuffed that you can barely tell their original colour, my jeans are ripped at the knee, inexpertly patched, and my top coat is faded from age and worn from wear, hiding further layers of shabbiness beneath its bulk. I probably look like I just crawled out of garbage can!

I force myself to meet Heero's gaze. His eyes are so blue… azure, cobalt, cerulean, indigo, sapphire. I remember the childhood paint box I shared with countless other children at the orphanage… so many different blues and yet none of them do these eyes justice. They're just so very blue. God, that sounds stupid, but it's like my brain has just stopped functioning. He seems to be staring right into me, blank and unreadable; it would be scary if I didn't instinctively feel that there was something else behind them.

He doesn't comment. Instead he turns back to Sally, still standing in the doorway, as though frozen midway across the threshold. "I just got your message."

His voice is low and husky, nasal even, slightly clipped with the barest hint of an accent; it's not smooth like Wufei's which always made me think of rich velvet, it's the sort of voice that ripples down your spine and I shiver. I think he notices because his head jerks sideways ever so slightly, blue eyes narrowed in my direction again. Again he returns to Sally. "How is he?" he asks, his voice softer, even slightly tender.

"He's in a coma," Sally says bluntly. "We're still waiting for the brain scan results." She continues, rattling off medical jargon and diagnoses, like it was second nature, which of course, it probably is; she is thorough and efficient, in full doctor mode, but her hands are clenching the edge of the bed so tight that her knuckles have turned white.

I sneak a glance at Heero. I can't tell whether he understands Sally's complicated spiel or not; his face is blank as he passively absorbs all the information given. He nods sporadically. Maybe he does understand. All those big long words… they probably talk like this all the time, refined and intelligent.

"It's a bit of a waiting game," Sally concludes sadly. Heero nods curtly in response and finally he moves, just when I was beginning to wonder whether his legs worked at all. He steps into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. He doesn't have that effortless poise that Wufei has; in fact, his movements are almost stilted, like he's never really gotten used to being in his own body.

He moves up behind Sally and she melts against him, sagging part in anguish and part in relief. He places one hand on her shoulder, long, elegant fingers squeezing gently, his face betraying his emotions for the first time since his arrival. It's such a tender, comforting gesture that I have difficulty reconciling the image of this man with the image of the wooden man that was just standing in the doorway. He is human after all.

"He'll be alright," Heero says softly, reassuringly. His voice is full of confidence and that seems to seep from him into Sally. Even I believe his words.

Sally smiles, still looking down at Wufei. She smoothes the wrinkles her grip has left on the blankets. "Of course he will," she replies. Like Heero's, her tone holds that assurance, as though their will alone could make it so. The briefest, tiniest little half smile twists on Heero's face but it seems to crack the stern, stoic façade; faint lines crinkle in the corner of his eyes.

Watching their interaction, their moment, I suddenly feel very much an intruder…it just seems so very personal, so very intimate; it's the same feeling I get when I see Hilde and her boyfriend Alex kissing… like they are the only two people on the planet, like the rest of the world has just melted away.

I wonder silently if I could manage to slip out of the room without either of them noticing. Unfortunately, the bad luck that has plagued me my entire life is still lurking in the background and my chair creaks loudly and abruptly the moment I try to move. Two sets of eyes are immediately on me and their moment is well and truly broken; I feel simultaneously guilty and embarrassed.

"Who is he?" Heero asks. The question is directed at Sally but his gaze is still trained on me; his voice is rough, bordering on rude and accusing, and it feels like this must be another facet of the man that is Heero. This is suspicious Heero and the doubt in his eyes puts me immediately on edge. Those eyes bore into me again; I feel like I'm naked under a blue spotlight.

"This is Duo…" Sally struggles to remember my last name and it eludes her. She looks vaguely disconcerted by her lapse in memory but moves on brusquely. "He's Wufei's boyfriend." Her voice is smooth and calming, which I suspect is for Heero's benefit, but also warm and inclusive, which I suspect is for mine. She smiles at me and I smile back. There are those words again… I feel a little glow inside. I resist the urge to giggle.

Heero's eyes widen almost imperceptibly at Sally's words and then almost immediately, narrow again. He runs his gaze over me once more, taking in the thick, heavy layers of clothing and then my slightly bedraggled braid of hair. His face has gone blank again but his eyes are still alight, glowing with something that I can't identify. I'm locked in his gaze and it's like the rest of the room doesn't exist.

I feel overwhelmingly nervous; there is a troupe of butterflies practicing their tumble-turns in my stomach and they just won't quit. Those eyes… it feels like they see everything, that they'll take one look at me and know the truth: that I'm nothing to Wufei, that I'll never be anything more than that to him.

I hover like a prisoner on death-row, waiting for the final blow to come. But it doesn't. He doesn't denounce me, he doesn't yell or scream or laugh or call me all manner of things that are probably true. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all.

Instead his eyes narrow even further to mere slits. It's a look similar to the one my cat Attila wears when he's decided to bide his time and wait for the perfect moment to strike with deadly precision. It's a look that promises nothing good. I think I'd rather he just got it over and done with now.

"Hn," he grunts. I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, so I wait nervously still feeling like a man on the block, waiting for the axe to fall.

Sally casts Heero a quick, sharp look; the sort of look that innumerable generations of women have perfected over time, the sort of look that can instantly put a truculent child in his place. Heero rolls his eyes dramatically, probably more for my benefit than Sally's, and then nods. He gives me a tight smile that doesn't leave me feeling at all reassured.

In that moment, Quatre and Trowa return. I think they must have been outside because their cheeks are slightly pink from the cold and Quatre's blonde hair is windswept, falling into his eyes. Heero gives the first proper smile I've seen from him and it transforms his face. I give up counting the many sides there are to this man.

He accepts a hug from Quatre; it's not the sort of fierce, all-encompassing bear hug that Hilde and I often share, but it is affectionate enough, one born of years of strong friendship. He doesn't hug Trowa but there is a warm handshake and some sort of strange silent communication passes between them because Heero nods and then Trowa nods and then they both smile and Quatre laughs. I shrink back into my chair in the face of their easy friendship, feeling alone and left out in my little corner.

Quatre is saying something when I stand up, chair squeaking horribly, announcing my movement to the room. He pauses, mid-sentence, to look at me. They all do. "Um… I should go… er… got to feed the cat and all…" I trail off, wondering whether I've turned an unattractive shade of pink yet. God, I feel like such a putz… and evidently the years I've spent with the Jewish Hilde are starting to show.

"Are you sure?" Quatre asks, blue eyes twinkling. No, they're not blue, not like Heero's… there's some green in there as well. I realise that I'm staring and blush accordingly. "I was just about to suggest that you three come home with Trowa and me. None of us should have to be alone tonight." His voice is almost melodic, soothing and enchanting; the sort of voice that automatically makes you want to go along with whatever it's suggesting… Sister Helen's was like that too.

I feel a swell of gratitude and awe that they would automatically include me in their plans and something deep inside compels me to accept, to throw myself into the kindness of strangers.

But then the awkwardness starts bubbling away inside me again; I'm feeling uncomfortable enough just being with them in this hospital room, I might wither and die of embarrassment if I were sitting around with them on their home turf.

"Um… no, thanks. That's a very kind offer and I appreciate it, but… I-I should get home," I tell them. Quatre looks a little crestfallen at my refusal and I automatically want to reconsider. But I stand firm. "It was very nice to meet you all."

"Yes, you too," Sally says, getting up from Wufei's bedside. "Will we see you tomorrow?" she asks. "The brain scans should be in by then."

"Yes, I'll…um… drop by." I can feel the heat pouring off me now – definitely lobster pink.

Three faces smile and nod but it is Heero's gaze that I end up returning. He is not smiling, merely regarding me with an indecipherable expression. My stomach churns and I realise he will be far harder to convince than the others. And then I wonder why I'm trying to convince them at all – shouldn't I be telling them the truth or something else equally responsible?

Running away and never coming back suddenly seems like a very viable option, but when my gaze flickers past Heero to Wufei, peaceful and strangely vulnerable on that bed, and I know that I'll be back here tomorrow.

I drag my eyes away from Wufei and resolutely ignore Heero. I catch Sally's eye and smile at her, immediately feeling a little bubble of warmth in the pit of my stomach as she smiles even wider, revealing rows of brilliant white teeth in genuine affection.

I exit quickly, trying not to look too much like I'm escaping or like I'm completely hopeless. No such luck; I end up catching the tassels of my scarf in the door and spend an embarrassed few moments trying to disengage myself while they stare at me, no doubt wondering where about on Planet Loser I come from.

I can feel Heero's eyes following me out of the room and, in fact, they stay with me all the way down the corridor and into the waiting room.

* * *

The wind hits me the moment I emerge out into the car park, icy cold and damp with impending snow. I shrink back into my coat, tugging it closer around me, hunching over against the pervasive gale. I shiver violently, my teeth clattering together like a jackhammer.

And suddenly, the spell that enveloped me in that hospital room has been broken by the cutting wind that slices right through me. Reality strikes a cruel, heavy blow and I'm no longer Wufei Chang's boyfriend; I'm just a pathetic little liar, starved of affection, clinging to a man who doesn't even know I exist, infiltrating his family while he lies unconscious and broken.

I wince at the voice in my head that tells me exactly what it thinks of me. My heart sinks and my stomach churns restlessly, nausea washing over me in waves. God, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Two trains and a bus later and I'm nearly home. My building is the one with the gaudy plastic snowman out the front; Joey, the landlord, in a drunken stupor, thought it looked pretty and befitting the Christmas season. I've not had the guts to tell him it like looks like a crappy piece of junk and, apparently, neither have any of the other tenants.

I plod up the stairs, my boots thumping heavily on each step. I round the corridor to see Hilde curled up on my doorstep, looking a mixture of anxious and pissed off. She leaps to her feet the moment she sees me.

"Duo! Where have you been? Marge called me! Marge! Don't ever do anything that would warrant frigging Marge calling me again!" She exclaims fiercely, whacking me on the shoulder so hard that I stumble backwards. Then she pulls me into a tight hug and bursts into tears. I let her cling to me; I've never understood women.

She pulls away again just as abruptly, angrily wiping away her tears. "Can we go inside now? It's fucking freezing in this corridor!" And then we are both laughing and she's clinging to me again; I feel more like myself than I have all day.

Attila is prowling tetchily in front of the door when we enter. He looks up at me, clearly pissed off. He pauses, mid-prowl, the look on his slightly squashed face saying, 'Where have you been? You're late; it's nearly 11pm, the heating isn't on _and_ I haven't been fed!'

I feel like a truanting son being chewed out by an irate parent. I try to look apologetic as I hurriedly strip off my many layers of coat, leaving them in a crumpled pile by the door. He smirks vindictively at me and I'm fairly sure that look is telling me that he's shredded my favourite jumper as a punishment.

While I feed Attila, piling his bowl with extra meat to try and placate him, Hilde fiddles with the heating. There is much banging and the occasional curse but eventually there is a swoosh of hot air and slowly the apartment begins to thaw.

Attila wolfs his dinner in approximately eight seconds flat. He is back on the couch, reclining and looking satisfied but aloof, before I even have a chance to sit down and take of my shoes.

I kick off my boots, sinking into my favourite armchair, relieved to be home. Opposite me, Hilde is still clinging to the heater, mumbling something about frostbite. Eventually she straightens up and de-coats, flinging her jacket over the back of the couch. She lowers herself gingerly onto a section of couch not being used by Attila.

Two glowing green eyes narrow and suddenly Hilde has leapt up with a pained yelp, two sets of claws buried in her leg. Attila strolls back to his end of the couch and sets about washing himself vigorously, pausing every now and again to glare about the room and reaffirm his position as the Almighty Ruler of the Known Universe.

Hilde glares at him, massaging her bruised thigh. "Honestly, Duo, why don't you just get that… _thing_... put down!" she grumbles.

"I would, but I'm afraid he come back as a ghost and haunt me," I reply. Attila looks up as though he knows we're talking about him. One ear twitches ominously.

Hilde removes herself to a safe distance and then sticks her tongue out, blowing a wet raspberry in his direction. "Couldn't be any worse than he is now," she huffs.

Wisely avoiding the couch, Hilde chooses to pour herself into my lap instead. We struggle in the armchair for a moment, trying to fit whilst maintaining the ability to breathe and finally we've reached a comfortable arrangement.

Hilde takes a deep breath. "Alright, so tell me what happened? Marge said something about you getting hit by a train?" I'm impressed. Hilde is sounding far less hysterical than I was expecting.

And so I tell her… this great outpouring of emotion that I'd been repressing since before I even leapt onto the tracks. I allow myself to shake uncontrollably when I reach the part where the train was whooshing past me and my voice cracks when I reveal that I really thought I was going to die.

Hilde's arms wrap around me, warm and soothing. I let her kiss my forehead and tell me how much I mean to her and how glad she is that I'm alright. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling the soft, fresh scent of her perfume, content to be alive and in her arms.

After about ten minutes of uninterrupted comforting, Hilde shifts, trying to regain feeling in her left leg and accidentally knees me in the stomach, effectively ending our little moment. She casts me a sheepish look as an apology.

We re-settle ourselves and I pick up the story again. I pause when I get to the part at the hospital, the bit where things start to get complicated. I'm halfway through detailing Mr Screwdriver's injuries when Hilde spots my stalling technique. She knows me far too well to let me get away with any bullshit.

So I bite the bullet and in a big, long, confused breath I tell her about Nurse Jones and the mistake and about Wufei and his family and how they accepted me without question, which, you gotta admit, is rare thing in this world. I stop abruptly to breathe, sucking in a great lungful of air, waiting for Hilde's response.

She just stares at me in disbelief and then starts laughing. She is mid-giggle when she realizes that I'm not joking and then her mouth drops open. "Who are you and what did you do with the Duo Maxwell who never lies?" she accuses, prodding me in the chest.

That cuts a little too close to home. "I didn't lie!" I say hotly.

"You told a grieving family that you were involved with their comatose relative when in reality he doesn't even know you exist!" she counters. Now she's sounding more like the hysterical Hilde I know and love.

"I didn't!" I maintain. "Nurse Jones did." Even I wince at that pitiful excuse.

Hilde rolls her eyes, kneeing me in the stomach again as she shifts around to stare at me. I get the feeling that time it wasn't accidental. "Yeah but you went along with it – that's just as bad! A lie of omission is still a bloody lie!"

In my heart I know she's right and I crumple suddenly. I hate lying and I've always prided myself on never doing it. When I first arrived at the orphanage after my parents died, one of the other little boys asked me if I was scared. When I said 'no' he told me that lies make Baby Jesus cry and that little voice has stayed with me ever since. So I became Duo Maxwell, who would run and hide but would never, ever lie. And now, a few moments in a hospital room and all that is ruined.

"It just happened. I know I should have stopped it but I just… I wanted so badly to believe that it was true." My bottom lip wobbles pathetically. "As if! I'm just a pitiful little nobody, there's no way someone like Wufei would ever want someone like me." I contemplate drowning in self-pity. It doesn't seem like too bad a way to go. I suddenly feel so very hopeless. "Fuck! I'm such a bloody idiot – me and my big fucking mouth. Oh, what am I going to do?" I wail.

"Tell them the truth?" Hilde suggests as though it's really that simple. "Just rock up tomorrow and tell them the truth. If they're as nice and welcoming and compassionate as you said they are, they'll understand I'm sure." But even as she says that I'm remembering cold blue eyes. Understanding and forgiveness? Yeah right! Sally and Quatre and Trowa would hate me and Heero… God, he'd probably crucify me.

Hilde catches my look. "Well, what else can you do? They can't go on believing you're this guy's boyfriend… I mean, what if he wakes up?" I don't have an answer to that – I hadn't even contemplated that eventuality. "You gotta tell them the truth, Duo. And besides, what's the worst that can happen?"

I stare at her. "You mean aside from them thinking I'm some sort of stalker freak and throwing me out and getting a restraining order or suing me for fraud? Aside from that?" Now I'm the one getting slightly hysterical.

Hilde seems stuck for an answer, which is probably a first for her. "Well, OK, it could turn into a bit of a sticky situation…" I raise an eyebrow at her understatement. "But it's for the best, yeah?"

"I suppose," I mumble reluctantly. And of course she's right – she knows that and so do I – I have to tell them the truth. But my resolve is already starting to crumble. Would it really be so very bad if I just held onto this little fantasy for a little bit longer?

* * *

Hilde ends up staying the night. She tells me it's because she doesn't want to have to go out and face the near-arctic temperatures, but I know it's really because she's a good friend and wouldn't let me be alone after the day I've had.

Her boyfriend, Alex, sounds ever so slightly grumpy when she calls him to let him know she won't be back until tomorrow. I can't resist making a crack about sleeping with his girlfriend and although Hilde and I both find it a little too funny, Alex just huffs and hangs up on us.

We curl up in bed together. We've been doing this for years. There's never been anything sexual about it… we both just like the warmth and comfort that comes from sleeping beside another person. Of course that warmth and comfort usually wears off somewhere around 3am when I wake up shivering and realise that Hilde has stolen the blankets.

The sound of the phone ringing shrilly wakes us rather rudely at half past six. Hilde flails wildly in her cocoon of stolen blankets and I roll off the bed, landing with a thump on the floor, only narrowly missing getting socked somewhere unmentionable.

The lump that is Hilde has rolled over and gone back to sleep by the time I make it to the phone. It's Marcus, my boss at the CTA. He rather ungraciously offers me the weekend off to recover from my recent trauma (I suspect this uncharacteristic behaviour is due to a fear that I might sue him for emotional damages rather than any actual concern for my well-being) and then proceeds to tell me that the next time a commuter decides to fall in front of a train, I should leave him to it lest I want to be fired. I've always loved the way the CTA show so much concern for their customers.

At first the thought of a mini-break is most pleasing – it's been months since I spent a full Saturday and Sunday at home rather than in a freezing cold glass box. I spend a good part of breakfast rubbing it in Hilde's face (because she's just so very cute when she's grumpy and threatening to castrate me). But then she's off to work and I'm left alone with my psychotic cat and not a whole lot to do.

I embark on a series of chores that I've been meaning to do since July. Within a couple of hours I've darned two pairs of socks, taken my broken clock radio apart and rather inexpertly put it back together again, and lost a fight to the heater which is resolutely on strike. I'm bored out of my skull and Attila is eyeing me in a most disconcerting manner. As I don't particularly fancy staying at home so I can turn into an ice-block and be tortured by a sadistic cat, I make a lunge for my jacket and am out of the door in a flash.

Joey the landlord catches me on the stairs. His hair is greasy and disheveled and he seems to be suffering from a rather appalling hangover. He leers at me. "Mornin' Duo," he mumbles, clutching his head.

"Morning Joey," I reply, pausing to talk, more out of habit than a desire to chat with him. I've always felt a bit sorry for Joey. He's not really a bad guy, if you're willing to look past the whole drunken sleaze aspect of his personality.

His wife left him a couple of years ago – ran away with the postman, as if you could get any more clichéd. He took it pretty bad and then took to the bottle pretty quick. Personally I think he's better off without her; she used to order him about and generally treated him like he was completely incapable of doing anything right. Yeah sure, he's not the sharpest crayon in the box, but she didn't need to get nasty about it.

But, he doesn't see it that way. He still thinks she was his angel and is miserable on his own. He tries to compensate for his loneliness by hitting on anything that moves, including me. I'm fairly sure he's not even attracted to me, he's probably as straight as they come… but I think he just wants the company, wants to be wanted. And I can kinda understand that. I've gotten used to his sleazy remarks and really, some of them are quite funny. What he lacks in originality, he makes up for in persistence and delivery.

"What're you still doin' here," he slurs, from exhaustion rather than booze which is a nice change. "Shouldn't you be a' work?"

Personally, I don't think he has a clue what day it is or where I'm supposed to be, but I humor him. "Nah, got the weekend off," I tell him. "Yesterday I rescued a man who fell onto the tracks and my boss felt I deserved a bit of a break."

Joey grins, revealing yellow, cigarette-stained teeth. "You can rescue me any day, kid," he laughs, winking at me and then clutching his head again with a moan of pain. I roll my eyes at him, smiling in spite of myself. "So where you off to then?" he asks, leaning against the banisters.

"Just going for a walk. Bored, you know?" I say, pulling on my gloves and securing my scarf around my neck.

"I'll entertain you if you want," Joy suggests, leering again.

"I sincerely doubt you're up to it," I tell him, fighting back a laugh.

"Say the word and I could be… just for you," comes the quick response. This time I do laugh. I wonder what would happen if I ever took him up on his offer. Probably wouldn't have a clue what to do… just enjoys the chase.

"I'll bear that in mind," I say, trying and failing to look serious. He waves me off sleepily and then stumbles back into his apartment while I exit out onto the street.

The fierce cold hits me mercilessly. I've always hated the cold; it's one of few the things I genuinely loath in this world. One winter when I was a kid at the Orphanage, our government funding didn't come through and the gas company cut off our heat. It was freezing. I've never been so cold in my life and I've hated Chicago in winter ever since.

I walk briskly, trying to regain feeling in the lower half of my body. I'm halfway down the block when it occurs to me that I am a complete idiot and should just have stayed at home. Anything Attila could dish out would have to be better than this weather!

Just as I'm passing the bus stop, the number 17 bus pulls into the curb and a gaggle of elderly ladies clambers off agonizingly slowly. The number 17 bus goes right past the hospital, my brain helpfully informs me. And I sigh because before I know it, I'm already on board.

Sally is there when I arrive. She's perched on the edge of Wufei's bed again, her legs folded, tucked up against the crisp white bed sheets. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail today but she is dressed in the same sort of neat, stylish suit she wore yesterday.

Wufei's hands are resting gently on top of the bedspread, smooth brown against stark white. Sally's left hand is lying across his twined fingers, maintaining a sense of contact with his unconscious form. In her right hand, she is holding a clipboard and is intently studying whatever is written there.

I hover in the doorway, unsure whether to enter or not. In my head, I practice my speech… the 'I'm sorry, I lied' speech. The words keep getting muddled and in my coat pockets, my hands are shaking already.

I can't do this, a tiny voice whimpers in my mind and a second later my legs agree and I try to shuffle backwards out of the picture before Sally can turn around and spot me. Unfortunately I'm so busy trying to be silent that I miss the nurse coming up behind me, wheeling a trolley piled high with bedding. I back straight into the trolley and it pitches over, taking me and the nurse with it. There is an almighty crash as we tumble over and land in a big, jumbled mess.

When I finally manage to disentangle myself, apologies pouring from my mouth in a steady stream, I look up to see Sally standing in the doorway, watching me and trying not to laugh.

I help the nurse to her feet and then we pile her laundry back onto the trolley. I'm still apologizing but she brushes it off, hurrying away as though afraid that Hurricane Duo will strike again.

Sally has gone back to Wufei's bedside but it's too late now – she's seen me – so I follow her inside, closing the door gently behind me. I clear my throat, barely controlling my nerves, and open my mouth to say my speech. Unfortunately, Sally speaks before I can get anything out.

"The brain scans just came in," Sally says. In my head I know I should just get my confession over and done with before I lose my nerve, but I'm curious… I pull up a chair beside her and she continues. "There are high brain activity levels which is a good sign." She hands me the clipboard but I don't bother reading it; I won't understand it anyway.

"So why is he still in a coma?" I ask, wondering if that's a stupid question.

She turns to me with a sad smile. "It's normal for the body to shut down after an injury like Wufei's. It's trying to heal itself," she explains for me. "Brain injuries can be very unpredictable and things can improve or deteriorate rapidly without warning… but at the moment, there is every indication that he will wake up. This is good news, Duo." She smiles reassuringly at me and I manage to fix my face into an appropriate response.

"Do you know when he'll wake up?"

"Unfortunately, no. There is no way of knowing for sure. Could be days, could be weeks…" she pauses but doesn't take that thought to its natural conclusion which I'm grateful for. "We just have to wait. He'll come back to us… Wufei is far too stubborn to let this beat him." I laugh and so does she.

And then suddenly she's crying. Not desperate, wracking sobs – she's far too composed for that – just silent tears of helplessness. For a moment I feel so very awkward, not knowing whether I should comfort her or let her exorcise her sorrow without interference or just leave.

In the end I settle for shuffling closer and resting my hand on her knee, squeezing gently in what I hope is reassurance. She turns her head away from me to hide her tears but places her hand on top of mine and then twines our fingers together.

I wait patiently and finally she brushes her tears away with a sniff. When she turns back to me, she looks vaguely ashamed. "I'm sorry, Duo. I don't know what came over me." She tries to laugh it off. "Wufei would tease me dreadfully if he knew… tell me I was just being a silly woman." Her laugh turns into a choke but she controls it and the tears don't fall again.

I squeeze her hand and she squeezes back in acknowledgement. "It's alright, better out than in, Sister Helen always used to say," I tell her, handing her a tissue I've fished out of my pocket. She eyes it suspiciously and then takes it with a laugh when I assure her that it's clean.

For several minutes we just sit together in silence. I feel strangely calm and comforted, sitting here with her like this… just existing peacefully together.

"I'm glad you're here," Sally says suddenly, catching me off-guard.

I stare at her and then "Why?" escapes before I can stop it.

She smiles and pats my hand before looking back down at Wufei. "I don't know, really," she admits. She pauses and I sense that there is more, that there are things that she needs to say, more to herself and to Wufei than to me. I make a gentle noise of encouragement and then she takes a deep breath and just lets it all out.

"I guess… I'm just glad I'm not here alone. I never really noticed how sterile and alienating a hospital can be. I mean, it's stupid, isn't it? I've been working in hospitals for over ten years and it's only now that I realise it."

I try to think of something comforting to say but no pearls of wisdom are forthcoming, so I just allow her to continue.

"Everything is so white, so pale. I don't like thinking of Wufei here. He was never like that… he was always so passionate… so alive. I remember the day he decided he wanted to be a lawyer…" She sounds so wistful, like she's lost in the memory, and I wait for the rest of the story, rapt. "He just wanted to lead an honorable life, to spend his days doing something worthwhile… for society, for humanity. He wanted to be like the Lady of Justice, preserving and serving the law with truth and integrity." She laughs. "He was always so determined, pursued that dream with that obstinate self-confidence…"

She breaks off suddenly and then stares at me guiltily. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Duo… I'm sure you don't want me talking about Wufei like this… I didn't think." She stops abruptly.

"No, it's fine," I assure her. "I like it, actually. When you talk about him, it's like he's here with us… I mean, really here… I feel connected to him." I can feel myself blushing. "Will you… tell me more?" I ask, hesitantly. I'm enthralled… when she speaks I get glimpses of this man that I've always been desperate to know.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yes!" I say, a little too quickly. "Unless… you don't have to, if it's too painful…"

"No, you're right. He'd want us to remember him, to keep him alive until he was back with us. And I like it too…" She smiles to herself and then looks down at me. "It's strange… what you said about feeling connected to him… I guess I feel the same. Having you here, this part of his life that was just for him… I feel more connected to him as well."

And that leaves me lost for words. Suddenly, all thoughts of telling her the truth just dissipate. How can I tell her now, after that? How can I deny her that connection?

But she continues, oblivious to my internal battle. "I guess… I feel like Wufei has been drifting away from me recently. Not a conscious decision, or anything, just… lives diverging. Heero said something last night and I realised he was right. It's been... oh, at least six months since either of us has really talked to him. We've all just been so busy… God, that's such a pathetic excuse." She shakes her head and sniffs again.

"There are parts of his life that are just… so foreign to me. I remember a time when he would tell me everything. And the things that he didn't, he'd tell to Heero who would just tell me anyway." She laughs, but it's a slightly sad sound. "But now… there's this distance… I didn't even know about you…" She pauses again and turns to look at me straight-on, deep brown eyes meeting and holding my gaze. She looks determined. "I'm not going to let Wufei slip away from me any more," she says, with a nod. And then she takes my hand again. "I'm glad I've met you, Duo."

And that's it… that's the moment. My lie stops being just about me and it becomes about us. It's stupid because she doesn't even know, and yet she's a part of this now. It feels like she needs and wants me to be here as much as I do. And I remember the brief conversation we had last night about family. In this moment, I am part of their family and I'm not entirely sure I ever want that to change.

* * *

We have lunch together in the hospital cafeteria. The food is uniformly dreadful and we have a good giggle about it. As we push our grey mush around our plates Sally tells me more about Wufei. Stories from his life, his childhood… the good and the bad.

And suddenly, Wufei is real to me. He stops being this romantic dream that waltzes up to my booth every evening and becomes a flesh and blood man. And for the life of me, I can't work out whether I'm happy about this or not.

Sally brings his personality to life through her stories… he's dedicated and loyal and fiercely honorable but stubborn and even egotistical, he doesn't suffer fools lightly. She paints me this picture and in my mind, I try to reconcile my Wufei with her Wufei. He's a puzzle, she tells me, and I can imagine that. I wonder what it would be like to unravel that puzzle for myself.

Sally disappears off to work in the early afternoon. I'm disappointed to see her leave. I like her company, I've come to realise. She's a smart, witty, compassionate woman and I like who I am when I'm with her. Even if the truth just gets buried further and further inside me.

I sit by Wufei's bedside and after a couple of hours I work up the courage to hold his hand again. His skin is warm and soft against my own and I am endlessly fascinated by the way our fingers twine together, light bronze against pale flesh.

I think about all the things Sally told me about him and let my imagination run wild… fantasy and reality trying to merge.

We're in Venice, because for me, it's always been about Venice. The sun is sinking low in the sky, red and pink playing across the glossy canals. I can almost feel the gondola rocking gently beneath us as we glide through the streets. I'm seated in the V of his legs, his arms around my waist, so warm and comforting and strong. When he speaks, it is with passion and fervor, those deep, black eyes burning from within. He kisses me and it's perfect. OK, so perhaps my romantic mental picture of Wufei hasn't been completely erased.

But when I open my eyes again, he's still lying there unconscious on the narrow bed and I wonder if my dream will ever come true. I lie to myself, saying that it will. This lying business is becoming a bit of a habit. I fiercely hope that I won't lose myself in the midst of all the untruths.

There is a knock at the door just as the afternoon is starting to draw to a close. I'm slightly puzzled because I'm sure that Heero or Trowa or Quatre wouldn't knock. I clear my throat and muster a croaky, "Come in."

A ginger head pops around the door, peering in, and then is followed by a body. He is short and slightly round, but he bounces when he moves, giving him this sense of boundless energy.

He grins nervously at me from the doorway, shuffling from side to side slightly. His awkwardness reminds me of myself last night. I find it funny that suddenly I've become so integrated in this charade that now I'm the family and now I'm the one doing the welcoming.

"Er… hi, I'm Dave… Dave Richards," he enthuses with another grin, bounding forwards to shake me hand.

"I'm Duo," is all I manage to say because then he's speaking again.

"Jolly good, nice to meet you. I just called in to see how he was doing. We just heard this morning. Office is buzzing with it. The partners wanted to send some flowers but we weren't sure if that was appropriate or not."

I mumble an "I'm sure that would be fine" but it's lost as he continues. "Duo, did you say? Are you family?"

"Er… no, I'm Wufei's boyfriend," I tell him, hoping to God that he isn't Wufei's confidant or something.

"Oh, right, _you're_ the boyfriend. We thought there must be one. Wufei's always much nicer when he's seeing someone." He stops abruptly and then backtracks. "Not that he's not nice all the time. A thoroughly nice bloke. But I'm sure you know that already…" he trails off again.

"So you work with Wufei?" I clarify.

"Oh, yes, didn't I mention that? Yes, we work together. And I'll tell you, it'll be a bugger not having Wufei on board for the Randle Case. We're working weekends as it is. He's a top-notch lawyer," he concludes with a nod.

"You know him well then?" I ask, interested to know, to learn more about Wufei.

"Well, I guess so. We used to play Squash together. I don't so much, anymore…" He pats his rounded stomach affectionately. "And Wufei, well you know…" He clears his throat while I expire of curiosity. _I know what?_

"Still feel a bit guilty about that, really," he continues, leaning in close, conspiratorially. "Forgot I had the pen in my pocket, you see. And well, whoopsie." He laughs and then stops suddenly, a mixture of embarrassment and guilty playing on his jovial face. "But he said he didn't blame me, you know, and he can still father children with only one… well, you know." He nods and then double-takes. "Er… not that that's necessarily a major concern for you and him being… well, you know." He stops again and has turned a rather unattractive shade of pink.

He lunges into his pocket and pulls out a hanky which he dabs his forehead with rather pathetically. "Sorry. Everyone says I talk too much." I don't have the heart to tell him that everyone is right, so I say nothing and just nod instead.

"Anyway, I just popped in to say hi and pass on everyone's well-wishes. So, I'll just… better get back to the office. The Randle Case waits for no man, even on a Saturday." He grins and then dabs his brow again, nervously. You have to feel a bit sorry for the guy.

"Right. Well, thanks for coming by, er… Dave, was it?" I say, rising.

"Yep, Dave Richards," he shakes my hand again; it's slightly sweaty. He nods and for several moments he just stands there and then grins again. "Right, I'm off."

And then he's gone. I sink back into my chair, wondering whether this is what it must feel like to have survived a twister.

It's nearly five by the time I start thinking about leaving myself. I realise that I'm vaguely waiting for someone else to come along and take-up my bedside vigil. But then I'm afraid that it might be Heero and I'm not sure I'm ready to face him again.

I stare at the wall above Wufei's bed, remembering cold blue eyes. There was something about him, but I just can't quite seem to put my finger on it. It niggles at my brain, irritating and relentless. He's a puzzle, Sally had said about Wufei… but I can't help thinking that it's Heero that's the puzzle. Puzzlingly enigmatic.

I look back down at Wufei, trying to remember his eyes, those deep brown eyes that would bore through the glass of my booth and straight into my own eyes. But frustratingly, now all I can see is blue.

I sigh heavily and, giving Wufei's soft hands one last stroke, I collect my coat and creep out of the room. I wander down the corridor, letting my fingers gently scrap along the clean, white walls. Sally was right… all this white; it does seem so very alien.

Just as I'm rounding the corridor, about to emerge into the waiting room, I connect with something warm and solid. I stumble backwards, steadying myself by clinging to a nearby plastic pot-plant. And that's when I look up and there are those cold blue eyes again.

"Hi, Heero," I croak, immediately mentally cursing myself for blushing. Those eyes survey me, narrowing again. "I was just heading home…" I trail off, Heero's glare effectively cutting off my ability to form sentences.

For what feels like hours we just stand there, staring at each other. Eventually there is an annoyed cough from behind me, and a rather formidable-looking nurse pointedly asks me to move because I'm blocking the corridor.

I apologise automatically, moving aside to let her pass and forcing Heero to step backwards. "Right…" I try. "Um… I talked to Sally this morning. The brain scans are back. She said it was good news…"

"She called me," Heero says, cutting me off.

"Of course." I cast him a nervous little smile and receive a blank look in return. I try again. "Someone from Wufei's work dropped by. He sent his best wishes." Again there is nothing but blankness. And suddenly I'm very tired. Those eyes are so very unforgiving. I find myself longing for the way it was with Sally; the way everything was so very simple. "Right, well, goodnight," I say abruptly, turning on my heel and pushing past him.

He catches up to me as I'm exiting the waiting room. We shiver as one as the cold air hits us simultaneously. He follows me for several paces before I whirl around to face him. He almost collides with me.

"What do you want?" I ask him wearily. Those eyes narrow again and I'm rather tired of seeing that expression on his face. I'm tired of the way he can make me feel like I'm nothing, even though, let's face, I am.

He considers me carefully. "You're not Wufei's type," he accuses.

I swallow heavily. "Well… life would be pretty boring if we all stuck to our own type," I retort, sharper than I had intended.

Those eyes narrow even further. "Wufei liked his life to be ordered and proper. He would never have gone out with someone as… unpredictable as you."

For some reason that riles me. "Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?" I snap. "You don't even know me!" I wonder why I'm being so self-righteous. Maybe Heero's right… maybe I'm not Wufei's type. I sure as Hell ain't his bloody boyfriend.

He stands his ground, staring me down. And of course, he wins. I pale in the face of such endless blue. But he doesn't answer my question, instead responding with one of his own. "If you are really Wufei's boyfriend then you know all about his… accident, wouldn't you?" he asks, there is something almost vindictive in his voice.

"Fine, if that's the way you want to play this. Yes, I know all about his accident. And just for the record, regardless of whose type I am, I'm not the sort of guy to discriminate on the basis of whether someone has one testicle or two!" I declare, praying to the God that I no longer believe in that we're on the same page and that I've not just made a complete pillock of myself.

Heero's eyes narrow, yet again, and then he nods stonily. "You're still not his type," he maintains, forcefully.

"Yeah, well funnily enough, I don't give a shit." The glare is back and I sag. "Look, Heero, I don't want to fight with you." I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the impending headache. "You don't have to like me but we're here because we both care about Wufei and I think that he'd expect us to at least make an effort to get along."

Heero recoils as though he's been stung by my words. His mouth sets in a blank line but his eyes are swirling like a turbulent sea. He doesn't seem to have the words to say what he wants to say. He clenches his jaw, still staring at me.

I sigh heavily. "Goodnight, Heero," I say. And then I'm walking away and again those eyes follow me all the way down the road.

**

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, that's it for another chapter. There will be more Heero/Duo interaction in the next, I promise. I hope liked it, and if you didn't… well, don't tell me – I'm perfectly happy living in denial. Did anyone get the Simpson's Reference – that's for you, Jeff (total addict) – I shall be most disappointed if you missed it!**

**Right, I'd like to do a bit of thanking, partly because it's a good way of procrastinating and avoiding all the work I really should be doing, and partly to let you all know how much I love youse guys (sorry, a little bit of the Yob Australian in me just came out) and how much I appreciate all your reviews.**

**Firstly, to everyone who wrote asking me what's going to happen next… do you really think I'm going to tell you? Actually, with the right amount of bribery, I'd probably cave pretty quickly. Anyway, secondly, THANK YOU (it warrants capital letters, I think) to: **Kyeda-Anna-May**, Movie Fanatic, **Crimson Release**, Subzero13, **Muchacha**, InfectedLife, **KawaiiTenshi27**, Genkil, **Solo's Ghost**, Camillian, **lun4r-flow3r**, Shaeric Draconis, **WREC**, Anon, **Nikkler**, Pampers-KND, **Lolly Sister**, F. Jane, **cottonfuzz**, silver, **tyranimo**, turtledonkey27 (how on earth did you come up with that nickname!).  
****Lady Larrabee: **Aw, shucks, you sure know how to make a gal feel special. I'm glad you like my work – though, trust me, glad just doesn't do justice to the feelings I get when I read such nice reviews. And I'm thrilled you're a fan of "A Reason For Me" as well – I swear I am working on the next chapter for that fic as well. Cheers, hon.  
**Ekala**Well, I'm glad you've stuck by me despite your aversion for AUs. And don't worry about not reviewing "A Reason For Me" – you're reviewing now and that just makes me feel super special. And I'm glad you found my dig at GWBush funny – there's a whole lot more that I'd love to say about him, but then I'd just be ranting. Thanks for reviewing. Oh and fairy bread? Surely that can't be a purely Australian thing! It's where you get white buttered bread and cover it with those little 'hundreds and thousands' sprinkle things… mmm, very good – and very popular amongst five year olds (and the occasional slightly crazy adult).  
**EmpressRose**Well, I'm updating. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my other fics, they've just been temporarily moved to the backburner – but I'll have then up and boiling again as soon as I can.  
**Shi: **Don't worry, I won't make Wufei complete horrible like Peter is in the movie; he's going to be… well, just not right for Duo (because we all know who is). And yes, Zechs… yum… long hair indeed. Stay tuned, hey?  
**Sminty**Well, looks like you and Shi are on the same page. Nope, no bastardized Wufei, here. And as for a catfight between Duo and Zechs? Well, that would be telling now wouldn't it?  
**ZaKai**A wonderful beginning? Oh gee, don't tell me that – I'll never be able to live up to it! Nah, just kidding, you can tell me that any day! Glad you're liking it so far. And I'm glad you had a laugh at Marge. She's actually based on someone that I work with, and believe me, she's worse in real life. Ta for reviewing (and feel free to do so again).  
**Cyrrer**Oh, believe me, you don't want to meet the "Attila the Hun" cat – he's based on my very own moggy and really, there's not much exaggeration there. And yet I still love her – I must be some sort of a masochist. Oh well. Thanks for reviewing.

**And to anyone else that I might have missed…**** THANK YOU (and I'm sorry, I'm sure I didn't miss you on purpose). So, now that I've done my bit in writing this chapter, it's your turn. Just click that happy little button and leave me a note. Come on, you know you want to… and don't you want to make this ever-so-slightly pathetic, overworked Australian happy?**


	3. Chapter Three

Title: While You Were Sleeping  
Author: Prynesque  
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap?  
Pairing: 1x2  
Rated: R  
Warnings: OOC (this is an AU – I think it's a given), some swearing, lime/lemon, POV, possible Australian-isms.  
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.  
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).  
Notes: This story is AU so I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! This fic is based on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_ (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don't own it either. It's a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven't seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas.

Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator, is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled further and further into the life of Wufei's welcoming family. To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall in love with Wufei's enigmatic step-brother, Heero.

**Author's Notes: OK, OK, I know it's been a while since I updated any of my fics but I was busy hating my computer (which mysterious ate half my work including the start of this chapter), then I was busy being on holidays (and therefore being even more lazy than usual) and then I was busy being distracted by the new Harry Potter book (which, for the record, I actually liked, though that opinion seems anything but universal).  
****And now I'm busy being back at uni… which is why I am updating – I am a master procrastinator and why get an early start on uni work when you can not and write fanfiction instead? In three months time, when I'm stressed out of my brain and hiding in a wardrobe (it has been known to happen), please take pity on me and don't remind me that I had the chance to organize all my work before hand and didn't.**

**On a semi-related note: the muses for this fic are galloping about in overdrive at the moment and would you believe that I've already started the next chapter as well? But don't think that that means it'll be up soon – I'm expecting another bout of laziness any time now.  
****On a completely un-related note: I think I've fallen in love. OK, so this is something I do with relative frequency but hear me out. We met on the Stair Master at the gym and I know it's true love because she, like me, is of the opinion that the Stair Master was invented by an evil and sadistic person (possibly the devil) to torture those of us who have been guilted into exercising by our exercise fanatic/freak housemates (who might also be the devil or, at least, possessed by him).**

**OK, that is all. I've rambled for far too long. Next time, someone stand up and gag me before I have a chance to get started. Now read this chapter and enjoy it and review, lest I be forced to go into a sulk and retire to my wardrobe prematurely.**

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**While You Were Sleeping: **

Chapter Three:

It's only as I'm stomping wearily up the stairs to my flat that I realise just how out of line I was with Heero. I mean, who am I to suddenly start wailing about what Wufei would expect? I don't even know the guy! I may enthuse all I like about who I _think _he is, that he's nice and kind and generous and gives to charity… actually, now I think about it I did see him give his change to that Amnesty International woman a couple of months back… hmm, must remember to tell Hilde.

Sorry, where was I? Oh right, despite my imaginative supposings, I don't actually know Wufei at all. Damn, I think that's what Hilde's been trying to get at for the past year or so.

And suddenly I'm feeling very dejected. Heero's voice rings uncomfortably loud in my mind… _Wufei__ liked his life to be ordered and proper. He would never have gone out with someone as… unpredictable as you_… those were his words, his accusations.

What if he's right? I've spent the better part of a year being in love with Wufei. What if I'm not his type, what if he would never love me back… what if I've gotten this close to my dream only to have it hopelessly dashed forever? What would I do if I couldn't even dream anymore?

Too many what ifs… I feel like I'm drowning in them. I enter my flat with my head bowed and suddenly drowning in that cheap bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge seems an infinitely better option.

Surprisingly, Attila seems to respond to my considerable lack of cheer and is almost polite about demanding his dinner… well, as polite as a cat that makes Machiavelli look tame can be.

Then as I'm collapsing in a heap on the sofa, clutching my bottle to my chest as though it's my oldest and dearest friend, he leaps up beside me and actually deigns to sit there. He waits for me to adjust to this rarity and then stretches out, allowing his back to press against the line of my thigh. It's warm and strangely comforting, something I never thought I'd ever say about this cat.

I am emboldened by Attila's unusual display of sensitivity. "What if Heero's right? What if I'm not his type?" I question again; hearing it said aloud just makes it sound so much worse.

Attila doesn't answer but his nose does twitch in a rather adorable fashion. I take that as an encouragement and let my finger brush across the soft, warm fur of his plump underbelly. He growls in warning. Right… not quite up for that level of comforting pet-owner bonding yet.

I discreetly remove my hand to a safe distance and take a swig from the bottle. The liquor burns uncomfortably down my throat and then sits hot and heavy in the pit of my stomach.

I'm not really much of a drinker, I realise blearily, probably because I don't do it very often. Hopelessly lightweight, Hilde's Alex once called me. I was suitably outraged at the time, though that was marginally undermined by the fact that I was having distinct difficultly maintaining the ability to stand.

Wufei's face swims blurrily before my eyes, only its not the pale blank face lying in that hospital bed, it's the Wufei I remember… strong and charismatic as he smiles at me through the glass ticket booth window.

I smile back but then suddenly that beautiful face is changing, seamlessly transforming; sleek black hair turns brown and wild, dark eyes turn blue. Those eyes pierce through me, so very blue… amazingly strong for a mere memory. Heero.

And far from drowning out that deep, slightly husky voice, the whiskey seems to be making it worse, louder, harsher… _He would never have gone out with someone as… unpredictable as you_. Unpredictable? I've never thought of myself that way. Maybe I am… after all, lying about being a comatose guy's boyfriend is a rather unpredictable thing to do.

I reach for the bottle again, momentarily mesmerized by the light playing on the amber liquid. But I can still see those eyes and hear that voice. Damn, this whiskey is just depressing me even further. I pause to glare at the bottle in the hope that it will realise its error and apologise. It doesn't so I take another burning swig… and then another.

I don't remember falling asleep but the next thing I know, I'm crawling back into a muddled consciousness, my back stiff from the couch, my mouth parched and tasting like God only knows what, and my teeth fuzzy.

A moment later I become painfully aware of the pounding in my head; it sounds distinctly like the timpani section of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra may have taken up residency there.

I roll over as best as I can, groaning hoarsely. My chest comes into contact with a warm, furry object which leaps away a moment later, spitting fiercely and yowling about personal space and overstepped boundaries.

I ignore Attila and struggle into an upright position. The timpanists are going full-tilt now, beating the Hell out of their drums and my skull. The near-empty bottle winks smugly at me and I push it away with my toe, scowling at it for seducing me into its depths.

Now I remember why drinking something I only do occasionally. Uttering a brief promise to never do it ever again, I lurch in the direction of the bathroom. My body seems torn between throwing up and falling over. When it finally seems clear that neither is going to imminently occur, I pour myself into the shower which has chosen this morning to produce nothing but cold water. The startling shock of cold is not wholly unwelcome.

I finally emerge, cold, bedraggled and looking distinctly like a drowned rat, but my head is slightly clearer, enough for me to consider stumbling into some clothes.

Hilde calls just as I'm starting to feel more like myself and less like I've just been hit by a rather vindictive semi-trailer.

"Jeez, Duo, you sound rough!" Hilde declares in that annoyingly chirpy way of hers which suggests that she spend a pleasurably alcohol-free evening with Alex and probably got laid. I throw her a scathing mental curse for having a functional relationship with a flesh and blood man rather than a bottle of whiskey. "I take it the truth didn't go down so well?"

Her words permeate my brain slowly. Truth? What truth? Oh, right… _that_ truth. I figure I can either tell Hilde and have her yell at me or say nothing and hope she moves on to a much nicer topic, possibly involving flowers and fluffy bunnies.

I take the latter option and there is a long, pregnant pause and then she sighs. "You didn't tell them, did you?"

Right, so bunnies are out. "Um… technically, no… I guess I didn't," I mumble into the phone.

I wait for the ear-splitting 'Duo!' and she doesn't disappoint. "What were you thinking? We agreed that you had to tell them the truth, remember?"

She clicks her tongue loudly, something she always does when she's ticked off. I wince. I never knew a mere click could sound so disappointed. There is a low rumble in the background that is presumably Alex asking what's going on. "Duo's being an idiot!" Hilde declares to him, not bothering to cover the receiver.

"Oh, right," comes Alex's muffled voice. Then, "Hi, Duo," he says, so close to the phone now that he's probably resting his chin on Hilde's shoulder. Hilde clicks her tongue again and tells him to sod off. He laughs and he does so without complaint. I must admit, she has him well-trained.

"I can't believe you, Duo! Are you at least going to tell me why?" she asks.

"I didn't plan on it!" I retort hotly. "It's just that… when I got there Sally was really upset and then she said that she was really glad that I was there… that I made her feel more connected to Wufei…" I trail off and Hilde is surprisingly silent. "Oh God, Hilde, you should have heard her! I just couldn't tell her, I couldn't…"

I sit heavily without checking that the sofa is actually behind me. I hit the arm rest with a jarring bump and then slide sideways to flop pathetically across the cushions.

Hilde sighs and when she speaks again it's with less anger and more sympathy. "OK, OK… God, what a mess. I have no idea how you're going to get out of this now." She pauses and I can just imagine her chewing her lip; she does that when she's confused or lost.

"I know; me neither," I mumble, sniffing rather pathetically.

"Well, at least that explains the whiskey bottle," she says a moment later; there is a hint of amusement in her voice. I think that's the end of the yelling. That's what I love about Hilde… she can go from hot and bothered to calmly amused within seconds.

"Whiskey bottle?" I ask dumbly.

"Yeah, the one you spent the night with?"

"I didn't!" I try to protest.

"Oh, come on, Duo! You can't lie to me… I know you far too well," she tells me, and of course, she's right.

"Oh, fine… but it came on to me," I say.

This draws a laugh from her. "Yeah, well you always did attract weirdoes. At least, Scottish is vaguely sexy."

I peer at the bottle on the coffee table, trying to decipher the label. "Actually, this one's Japanese…" I trail of abruptly, suddenly thinking something completely different and wondering where the Hell that came from. God, those blue eyes are back… "I mean, it's from Japan. But… I bought it at the shop."

Evidently my brain and my mouth are working at odds and there is a confused pause on Hilde's end as well. "Are you OK, Duo?"

"I think I'm going crazy," I confess to her, knowing that she'll probably just laugh.

She does. "Oh, Duo, babe… you went crazy years ago," are her comforting words of wisdom. I don't bother to thank her and she rambles on. "Anyway, I've gotta go. Alex and I are supposed to be going shopping… gotta get a Christmas present for his mother. What does one buy for the devil anyway?" There is a spluttering sound in the background which is either Alex crying out in righteous indignation or laughing.

"God, what ever possessed me to say yes about that whole 'meeting the parents' thing?" Hilde continues. "I've never been good at that." There is a thud which I think is Hilde banging her head against the table.

I cut her off before she can start wailing about the inherent evilness of mothers-in-law and her own impending doom; it's a conversation we've had many a time before and is usually the precursor to a very messy break-up (most probably because of Hilde's insistency on referring to each respective mother-in-law as 'the devil'). I sincerely hope she gets it right this time as I'm rather fond of Alex and happy-in-love Hilde is always more fun that depressed-kill-me-now-I'll-never-get-married Hilde.

"You'll be fine," I tell her, secretly pleased that we've moved on from my woes to hers.

"Yeah, I will, won't I?" she replies, sounding completely unconvinced.

"Just keep your mouth shut and stay in your room the entire time," I say before I can stop myself.

There is a long silence then, "Yeah, that's not a bad idea."

"_Goodbye_, Hilde."

She sniffs. "Yeah, alright, goodbye. And no more doing naughty things with anything from Japan!"

I'm left with the beeping of her disconnection and another rather disturbing mental image. I think the timpanis might be back.

* * *

I make the long, cold journey to the hospital just as midday rolls around. The city is busy, the lunch time rush well and truly taking hold. Harried office workers tumble out of their respective buildings, clutching their cigarette packets to their chests with an air of desperation. They light-up the moment their cheap leather shoes hit the sidewalk and their trails of smoke drift upwards into the cloudy grey sky.

I disembark from the bus, shivering as the cold hits me. The snow has subsided but the wind is bitter, howling and relentless. It swirls down the narrow Chicago streets, whistling like a lost wolf.

I'm chilled to the bone within minutes of stepping off the bus. Even my toes, firmly tucked inside three pairs of socks and a pair of scuffed boots, can't escape the frostbite.

As I shuffle up the long hospital driveway, my puffing breaths visible in the clear, crisp air, it occurs to me that the only logical explanation for venturing out in this weather is that I must be a masochist. It's not a very comforting thought and I trudge slightly quicker, the hot, welcoming heat of the hospital waiting room beckoning me forwards.

A rather stern-looking matron catches me off-guard just as I am entering. "Can I help you?" she asks; her dark, tiny eyes leave me with the impression that I would rather bleed to death on the ER floor than voluntarily ask for her help.

"I'm just here… um… visiting a friend," I mumble, staring at the white lino tiles beneath my feet, half-afraid that she'll spot me for the fraud I am and send me packing.

Her beetle-black eyes bore into the top of my head but before she can speak again I am rescued by a plump vision in regulation blue hospital scrubs.

"Oh, hello Duo!" Nurse Jones enthuses. Even though my last meeting with her resulted in the web of lies that I'm currently entangled in, I'm relieved to see her. Though, I confess I never thought my knight in shining armour would actually be a round nurse wearing a hat that looks distinctly like a giant blue condom. I edge cautiously around the redoubtable Matron, avoiding eye-contact. Her steely gaze follows me down the corridor.

"Wufei's doing OK, I think. He was fine when I saw him last night. Well, not fine because obviously he's still in a coma… but I haven't had a chance to look in on him today… I'm on surgical rotation this afternoon," Nurse Jones chirps, scuttling along beside me. She plucks at her unattractive blue garments morosely and then picks up the chatter again.

Her voice is oddly soothing as we walk through the maze of white corridors. She leaves me just as we're rounding the final corner. "Gotta run… I'm due in OR in ten minutes. You take care of yourself, Duo… and don't worry; _we're_ taking good care of Wufei."

I nod but she's already turned away. Her rather impressive bottom wobbles cheerily as she trots away.

When I edge Wufei's door open, the first thing I see is Quatre. He's sitting serenely by the bed, a pink highlighter tucked behind one ear; the tip of his tongue is slightly poked out, caught between his teeth. He's pouring over what looks like a rather dense document; only halfway through reading the title, I'm confused and bored. I feel a spark of pity. It's Sunday afternoon and the poor guy's working. Not to mention the whole best-friend-being-in-a-coma thing.

He looks up as I enter, a wide smile breaking across his face. "Duo! It's nice to see you again," he says and then, when I hover in the doorway, continues, "Come in and sit down."

He pulls up a chair and pats it good-naturedly. The movement dislodges the highlighter from behind his ear; it lands in his lap, hitting the file with a dull thump. "I'm glad you're here. You can save me from this hideous press release." He smiles that beautiful smile again and those round aqua eyes of his twinkle, crinkling at the corners.

I smile and mumble a thank you to my shoes as I sit myself down. "Any change?" I ask, leaning closer to peer anxiously at Wufei's still figure. I fancy he's a bit paler today and I frown. Reflexively, I tentatively reach out and smooth down Wufei's blanket. My hands linger slightly as they brush against Wufei's cool fingers, clasped on top of the white sheets.

I catch the look on Quatre's face as I sit back again, sweet and sympathetic. "No, no change," he tells me. He folds his file away, tucking it into his bag and dropping the highlighter in after it. "Sally was in earlier, when I arrived. She treated me to a long complicated spiel of diagnoses that I didn't understand a word of, but I gathered that he's still stable."

I manage a chuckle. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who doesn't understand a thing she says," I confess.

Quatre laughs; it's a warm, inclusive sound. "Yes, my sister Iria is like that as well. She tends to forget that not everyone has swallowed a medical encyclopedia." He leans forwards conspiratorially. "It must be a doctor thing."

"Must be," I agree. "Unless it's just us."

Quatre pretends to consider this. "Perhaps. But I prefer thinking that it's them."

We both laugh at that and I find myself instantly drawn to Quatre; he's warm and friendly without being overwhelming. He catches me staring at him and I blush, faking yawn to try and hide it.

He cocks his head to the side and surveys me. "Are you all right? You look a bit… tired," he tells me and I'm sure that's a polite way of saying I look like shit. A couple of hours sleep on a lumpy couch after more than half a bottle of whiskey will do that to a man.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Had a bit of a rough night," I confess, slightly sheepish.

"I can understand that," he says, nodding knowingly. "I find it horrible whenever Trowa goes away for work and I have to sleep in that bed all by myself. It just doesn't feel right without him beside me," he says, misinterpreting me. He pats my arms companionably and I find myself comforted anyway.

"Yeah," I say, rather unintelligently.

"I'm sure Wufei's thinking the same thing," Quatre continues, smiling. And maybe he's right. Although I sincerely doubt Wufei's thinking it about me.

We lapse into a comfortable silence and I find myself smiling because Quatre's hand is still resting on my arm, his warm seeping into me even through my many layers of clothes.

Eventually, Quatre stirs. He lifts his arms up over his head, cracking his back as he stretches. I wince automatically at the sound.

"Sorry," Quatre apologises. "Wufei hates it when I do that too." He smiles at the memory and then stands, smoothing down the creases in his pants. "I think I need a bit of a walk. I've been sitting in that chair all morning and my back feels like it has aged about thirty years. Terribly un-ergonomic." He pauses to cast it a reproachful look.

"I'll come with you," I say suddenly. Quatre seems a bit surprised by my offer. I think he proposed the walk in order to give me some time alone with Wufei, and I suppose I should be grateful for that but… "I mean, unless you'd rather be alone," I mumble awkwardly to the floor.

"No, I'd love some company… if you're sure." Quatre casts a brief glance in Wufei's direction.

"Yeah. I just… sitting here with him like this… it's just…" I want to say awkward or lonely or depressing but I can't get the words out.

"… hard," Quatre finishes for me and I nod, grateful for his understanding. "Well, come on then, he'll be alright without us, I'm sure. Trowa should be here soon, anyway." He pulls on his jacket; it's one of those expensive, heavy woollen coats and it fits him like it was tailor-made. Looking at the rest of Quatre's clothing, I wouldn't be surprised if it was.

He holds the door open for me and then follows me out into the corridor. "So, you've been here all morning?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation as we wander back through the hospital.

Quatre smiles, buttoning up his coat. "Yes. I volunteered to take the morning shift. Trowa will come this afternoon and Heero will be here for the evening. Sally, unfortunately, is working all day."

"Shift?"

"Yes." Quatre pauses to secure his scarf. "It was Heero's idea," he says a moment later, turning those big, aqua eyes on me. "He said that we should try and organize it so that there is someone here with Wufei for as much of the time as possible. So that when he wakes up, he isn't alone."

I am heartened by his use of the word 'when' instead of 'if' but I confess aloud that I have difficulty trying to imagine Heero making such a sensitive suggestion. I flush as soon as the words leave my mouth. "But, of course, I don't really know him," I mumble, aware that Heero is one of Quatre's best friends and that I probably just put my foot in it.

But Quatre just laughs. "Well, Heero is quite a complex character. I've known him for over fifteen years and sometimes I still feel like I don't completely know him. He's never really felt comfortable in himself, I don't think, though he hides well behind that confident, unapproachable mask of his. But beneath all that, he's got a heart of gold. I just wish he'd find someone that was able to bring that out in him…"

We pause just before the entrance doors. "I worry about him and Sally both, sometimes. They seem to think that they can make it through this life without having someone to share it with…" He trails off and then looks over at me.

Suddenly he slips his arm through mine; I feel a little tingle of happiness at his friendly gesture. "But we know better, don't we? We know how important love is… and I'm sure there is a Trowa or a Wufei out there for each of them."

We share a smile, but behind mine is a slight pang of self-pity. Quatre doesn't register it, though, and huddling together, we step over the threshold together. The wind hits us and we shiver as one. "By Allah, it's freezing out here. We must be mad," Quatre laughs, the sound whisked away by the wind. "We'll just have to walk very fast," he chuckles.

We're just nearing the sidewalk when Quatre says, "I'm glad you decided to come with me. This gives me an opportunity to grill you for all the information about you that Wufei neglected to mention."

"I'm sure you'll find I'm completely uninteresting," I tell him.

"Nonsense! If there is one thing I know about Wufei, it's that he has very good taste." I blush automatically and Quatre grins. " I mean it. After all, he and Trowa were together for a while," he whispers conspiratorially.

"Really?" I ask. I try to recall my memory of Trowa… oddly styled chestnut hair and green eyes, I think. And I then I frown. No, he's too tall. Wufei needs someone shorter… like me.

Quatre nods, oblivious to my height-related conclusions. "When they were in college. Though I don't think it was very serious. More experimentation than anything else, I think." He laughs and I find myself joining in.

"Don't you find that a bit… I don't know, weird? Knowing that they were… you know?" I ask.

He tilts his head up towards me as he answers. "Not really. The idea of them together is almost laughable. Neither of them is anything remotely like what the other needs. Besides, I know that Trowa loves me and now Wufei has you." A sickly sensation that feels horribly like guilt churns in my stomach.

We walk briskly and just as we're rounding the corner, the imposing, towering Winner Inc. building comes into view. It stands at the heart of the CBD, casting its impressive shadow across the city centre.

There is a tiny jolt of recognition in my brain. Winner… where have I heard that? I think I catch a slightly hardening of Quatre's smile and then I remember, a question already formulating in my mind. "I don't suppose you're one of _those _Winners, are you?"

"I was," he says, his arm tensing slightly against mine. "I was disinherited when I was 22."

"Why?" I ask, wondering whether I should be probing or not.

"According to my father, Trowa wasn't a suitable choice of partner for the scion of the Winner family." Quatre's tone is purposely light but I sense a residual underlying hint of bitterness.

"Ouch," I wince.

"Quite." He sighs and slowly his arm relaxes in mine. "But I suppose it was only a matter of time, really. My father and I never really saw eye to eye on anything. I don't think I ever really measured up to his image of what a son should be and he certainly never fulfilled my expectations of the perfect father either."

He pauses and I try to think of something compassionate to say. In the end, all I can come up with is a rather pathetic, "Sorry."

"Oh, don't be. It was a rather agreeable split in the end, I suppose. It certainly could have been worse. Besides, I've got Trowa and my sister, Iria… not to mention Heero and Wufei and Sally… and now, you. I'm not doing too badly after all." I glow internally at being included; I can almost feel the stupid goofy smile on my face.

He smiles somewhat reflectively and then turns back to me, aqua eyes gleaming. "Fancy a coffee?" he asks, indicating the café across the road.

I grin. "I'd love one."

As soon as we step inside, the warm air gushing from the air-conditioning vents washes over us, slowly thawing our frozen limbs. We sigh simultaneously in relief.

We sit by the window, overlooking the near empty street. Quatre pulls his macchiato closer, idly stirring it with a spoon. "So, tell me… any sordid family splits in your back-story?" he asks me, lifting the spoon to his lips, his pink tongue flicking out across the silver surface.

"Um… no… not really. I grew up in a Catholic orphanage. Not much room for anything sordid when you're surrounded by priests and nuns… not that I didn't try." I laugh but he looks slightly stung.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," he says, looking adorably distraught. I'm used to this reaction. Most people feel the need to feel guilty when they hear I'm an orphan. In their minds, growing up in an orphanage is intrinsically linked with having the worst childhood imaginable… a complete misassumption that usually it irritates the shit out of me. But Quatre is reassuringly genuine in his sympathy and I can't bring myself to snap at him.

"It's fine. It's not something I'm touchy about, anyway," I try to allay his guilt.

"Right, good." There is a slightly awkward pause as he sips at his coffee and then, "Why don't we leave off talking about family altogether and move onto something nice and safe?"

"Good idea. So… how 'bout this weather?" I ask, grinning into my coffee.

He throws his napkin at me. "I said nice and safe not dull as ditchwater."

And then we're both laughing and I suddenly feel like I've known Quatre for years. His easy-going warmth is infectious and I'm drawn to it. He reminds me a bit of Hilde, though they are nothing alike. I think it's more about who _I _am when I'm with them than any similarity between the two.

When the laughter dies away, Quatre is staring at me intently. I can almost feel those eyes raking through my thoughts. It's a rather unnerving feeling and I'm suddenly very conscious of the fact that my nose is probably still red and running from the cold and my hair disastrously windswept. "You know what?" he asks abruptly. "I think I like you, Duo Maxwell."

And we both grin, but deep inside that guilt is churning again. I push it away and it slowly fades. I don't know whether this is a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *

We part at the hospital entrance. Quatre pats his bag with a mixture of affection and reluctance and tells me he's got a mountain of work waiting for him at home. "Give my love to Wufei," he says, squeezing my hand. "Oh, and if Trowa's up there, tell him I'll take care of dinner."

I nod and then watch as he disappears into the distance. The snow is starting again, tiny soft flakes trickling down from over-head. His boots leave gentle imprints in the gathering white on the footpath.

When I reach Wufei's room for the second time, it's Trowa occupying the chair by his bed. Half his face is masked by that long streak of chestnut hair nad his single visible eye is trained on a book in his lap. I can't quite make out the title on the cover.

He snaps it shut, startling me. _The Heart's Passion_, I read. The title is red and glossy, embossed over a picture of a windswept heroine with a rather large chest and a ruggedly handsome man that I think is supposed to be a naval captain.

He follows my gaze and I think I catch the barest hint of a blush; it's gone before I can be sure. "Trashy, I know," he says with a tiny half-smile. "But my sister Catherine swears by them and well… they are rather good for those times when your brain is really not up for much more than heaving bosoms and quivering members."

He lapses into silence and then a moment later, "Though, for the record, I'll have you know that I've just finished reading Bob Ellis' _202 Arguments Against Economic Rationalism_."

I laugh. "And I'm sure it was very thrilling." I hover in the doorway, slightly nervous. Having heard Quatre talk about him, I almost feel like I know Trowa as well. I have to remind myself that this is the first time we've spoken.

He seems to sense my discomfort and pats the seat beside him like Quatre did. I flop into it heavily. My companion casts me a sideways glance. "Would you like some time alone?" he asks, much more direct in his offer than Quatre had been.

"No, please stay. I'd like the company," I say.

"As you wish." He taps the book in his lap. "I confess I'm rather glad of the distraction. One can only take so much hetero porn without feeling like scratching one's eyes out."

I glance at the teary heroine and her brave beau. "I'm sure you could find one where it's the cute but naïve deckhand who falls for the dashing captain."

Trowa laughs; it's low, a deep rumble more than anything else. "I suppose I could. But more than half this book is already dedicated to Captain Von Hugo's tumescent manhood, think how much worse it would be if there were two men involved."

I stifle a snicker. "Tumescent manhood?"

"Indeed," Trowa replies in mock seriousness. "The author is either well-versed in smutty euphemisms or has a very _large thesaurus_."

I laugh again, smiling to myself at our rather bizarre opening conversation. I've never spoken to this man before and all of a sudden we're talking about tumescent manhoods and quivering members.

"Do you always talk about tacky romance novels with strangers?" I ask.

"Ah, but you're not a stranger, are you?" he responds, arching one delicate chestnut eyebrow in my direction.

"I'm not?"

"No," he says, enigmatically. He sets said tacky romance novel down on the table beside Wufei's bed. "There is something you should know about this family, Duo. We have an infinite ability to adopt…" He pauses and just when I think he's done, he speaks again. "I think we may just have adopted you."

There's a funny sensation in my chest that I don't think I've ever felt before. "But you don't even know me."

"And sometimes that doesn't matter," he replies mysteriously. He casts me an indecipherable look that seems to be saying a hundred times more than his few words.

I frown. "I suppose. But I bet you wouldn't be saying that if I was a crazed axe-murderer." I stop abruptly; that cuts a little to close to the bone… well, not the axe-murderer bit, but I've definitely got the crazed in spades.

Trowa catches my blush but doesn't call me on it. "Don't think about it too hard," he advises. "Just let yourself be swept up by it all." I get the feeling that there is more to that sentence that Trowa has simply chosen not to say.

I cast him a sideways look and suddenly I'm burning with curiosity. Quatre's words from earlier come back to me. "Quatre said something about you and Wufei being together once…" I mumble.

"Hmmm? Oh yes, I suppose we were. Although 'together' seems a mite sophisticated for our fumbling whatever-it-was."

Inexplicably I feel a sudden stab of what feels horribly like jealousy. I try to remind myself that I have no right to be jealous because I have no legitimate on Wufei. But the little ball of green envy deep inside me is selectively deaf.

I glance across at Wufei's motionless body, trying not to imagine him and Trowa together doing together-kinds of things. Of course, when you're trying not to think of something, invariably your brain seems to decide that it's the only subject in the world that could possibly be thought about at that moment.

But thankfully, in my mind, the image of them together just seems wrong, like two pieces of a puzzle that just don't fit together. I wonder if that's because now that I've talked with Quatre, I can only think of Trowa as belonging with him, or if subconsciously I can still only ever imagine Wufei with me.

When Trowa finally speaks again, his voice catches me by surprise. "We were room mates for about three months, I think, before we even spoke a word to each other. He was driven and I was just introverted." He smiles a tiny half-smile, thinking about something that I'm not privy to. "But then we bonded over a mutual passion for the truth."

"The truth?" The words escape before I can stop them. I think my voice is slightly squeaky and I wonder if he notices.

"Yes. I sought the truth through my photography and he sought it in justice and the law." He smiles, slightly sad, at Wufei. "We stumbled through a few months of something that pretended to be a relationship and then we both realised that we were completely ill-matched and much better off as friends."

The coil of jealousy wrapped around my stomach ebbs away. I feel sheepish in its wake. "And then, of course, I met Quatre and… well, that was it for me." He pauses in reflection. "Took Quatre slightly longer, though."

"How long?"

"About two years." He catches my eye and smiles.

I grin, trying to imagine this strong, commanding man pining away while perceptive little Quatre stood in oblivion.

"That must have been hard," I mumble, thinking of my own situation… pining away in a ticket booth, up against the unknowingly oblivious Wufei.

He fixes me with a steady look. "Yes and no. I always knew that he would come around. I was content to wait patiently."

My fingers creep unconsciously across Wufei blanket, finally coming to rest just above his ankle. I can feel his warmth beneath the covers. I can feel that Trowa's watching me but I don't move to return his gaze.

I suppose I can wait, I think to myself. Trowa did and now he and Quatre are so in love that even I can feel it and I don't even really know them. Trouble is, patience has never really been my strong point.

I sit back in my chair. "Quatre told me to tell you that he'd take care of dinner," I say, breaking the silence.

"Ah, good. I hope he takes care of it using the phone and the take-out menu for that Indian place down the road," Trowa replies, studying his fingernails.

I laugh again, secretly hoping that Trowa is right about this whole adoption business. I spent 17 years in an orphanage waiting to be adopted by a nice, welcoming family and now, at nearly 30, it finally arrives. Hmm, maybe I'm not as bad at that whole 'patient waiting' thing as I thought.

* * *

I stay longer than I had planned. Trowa makes the mistake of asking what I do for a living and after a rather embarrassed confession, I settle down to bore him to death with all the details.

The workings of the Chicago Transit Authority as seen from the point of view of a lowly ticket booth operator is probably one of the most boring topics of conversation ever known to man, but Trowa doesn't seem to mind.

He jokes that as long as there are no quivering members involved, he'll be happy and is content to sit back and listens as I waffle on about Hilde, the indomitably awful Marge, how the heating in the booths doesn't work properly, and the inherent evilness of my customers (with one obvious exception).

Occasionally he makes the odd remark, in that deep, inscrutable voice of his, and there is even the odd laugh. I like the sound, I realise, and more than that, I like knowing that I was the one who brought it out of him. I go out of my way to be as amusing as I can. His laugh is refreshingly genuine like Quatre's.

Deep down, I wonder if this is what it must be like to be Quatre; to have this man's complete attention, to hear him laugh just for you. And even further down, I hope that this is what it would be like with Wufei.

I whisper my goodbyes Wufei and leave Trowa to his quivering members just as sky is beginning to grow dark. The horizon turns a dusky purple colour that fades to a deep grey; there are no stars out tonight, just a blanket of darkness, heavy with impending snow.

I am trudging down the crispy sidewalk to the bus stop when I hear my name, carried on the wind. I know the voice, though I don't think I've heard him say my name before.

I hesitate, wondering if I could get away with just hurrying away in pretend ignorance. But then I hear the sound of feet approaching, jogging down the footpath towards me.

"Duo!" he calls out again.

I stop suddenly and turn around and suddenly he's much closer than I'd anticipated. He crashes into me, blue eyes widening in shock as I fall backwards. His hands wrap around me before I make contact with the icy ground, pulling me up against him.

His arms are deceptively strong and I can feel the beat of his heart against my own chest. His breath ghosts across my face, soft and warm. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he removes himself to a slightly distance. His jaw is clenched and for a moment I think he's going to yell at me again.

For long seconds we just stare at each other. His hair is slightly damp, I notice, and I wonder why. He's wearing a leather jacket over a thick dark blue woolen pullover. It matches his eyes, a rather abstract part of my brain comments. There is a rather odd-looking scarf around his neck. It's long and as red as the traffic lights I can see winking in the distance. It's cute, the abstract part of my brain comments again.

A car horn blares further down the road and that seems to break the daze between us. "Sorry, are you alright?" he asks belatedly. I'd forgotten about the near-accident and then, realizing that he's waiting for an answer, I nod shortly. Why does it feel like his hands are still on me?

Heero clears his throat again and then starts to speak. "Look, Duo, I just…" he stops abruptly and I think his cheeks have gone slightly pink. Or maybe that's just the cold. One gloved hand curls around the end of his scarf, fiddling with the tassels in what seems like a very un-Heero gesture.

He tries again. "I want to apologise for last night," he says and now it's my eyes that are widening. "My behaviour was… unacceptable. You were right, Wufei _would_ expect us to make an effort to get along and… he would have considered my words to you highly dishonourable. I'm sorry."

There is a long pause in which I am completely lost for words. The expression on Heero's face is unnervingly genuine.

"No, _I'm_ sorry… I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sure this is very hard for you… he's your brother and I'm just this interloper. You have enough to deal with without me being a jerk as well," I say, my thoughts coming out in something of a jumbled mess.

He smiles suddenly and the difference in his face is remarkable. I recall Quatre's words… confident and unapproachable, hiding a heart of gold. And for the first time, I believe that.

"You're not an interloper…" he says quietly. "You've as much right to be here as I do, as Sally has told me in no uncertain terms at least twice. It was just a shock, I guess." He stops again and swallows. He seems to know what he wants to say, but is having difficulty getting it out.

"He never mentioned you. It hurts that he didn't trust me enough to tell me." Those words are so soft I almost miss them and he looks deeply embarrassed as soon as they've left his mouth. "I'm sorry for taking that out on you," he concludes. His eyes are fixed on the dirty sidewalk.

"It's fine. We're all stressed," I say aloud, but inside I'm screaming. The guilt is back and the expression on Heero's face is just making it worse.

"Shall we start again?" Heero asks out of the blue, looking up again and meeting my gaze.

And inexplicably, I'm grinning. "Yeah, I'd like that," I reply. The guilt is still there but now it's been joined by a strange warmth in my chest.

He tugs off one expensive-looking leather glove, revealing long, tapered fingers. He holds the hand out to me. It hangs in the air between us, waiting. I pull my own glove off, a hideous orange mitten that Hilde left at my flat one evening and never reclaimed (with good reason).

Our hands touch, fingers gently sliding across warm skin, palm meeting palm. His hand is slightly rough, not the smoothness I was expecting. I wonder vaguely what it is he does for a living, feeling an odd tingle beneath my skin that I'm sure is just from the calluses on the pads of his fingers.

"Heero Yuy."

I smile. "Duo Maxwell."

The handshake seems to stretch on for hours. It's almost as though the entire world has slowed down around us. I blink and for a moment, it's Wufei standing in front of me, holding my hand. But when I blink again, Heero is back, gazing at me with cool blue eyes.

"It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

Our hands untwine and I shove mine roughly back into my ugly mitten. Disappointingly, the faux alpaca wool lining is no where near as warm as the feeling of Heero's palm against mine.

"I should go and relieve Trowa. I'm sure he's wondering where I am," Heero says rather aimlessly.

"Yeah, me too. My bus will be here soon." I nod and then he nods but neither of us makes any attempt to move.

I laugh suddenly at our predicament. "This is stupid. I'm going to go. I'll see you later, Heero."

He laughs as well. Not a like loud hoot like Hilde, or meaningful chortle like Quatre, or even an enigmatic chuckle like Trowa… just a warm burst of low, rumbling noise.

"I'm sure you will. Goodnight, Duo. I'm… I'm glad we got this sorted," he replies, nodding again.

I grin and simultaneously we both turn away, gently parting. As I walk down towards my bus stop, I try and resist the urge to turn back. My willpower fails me just as I reach the curb and I glance back, trying to look subtle.

Heero is just about to start up the driveway to the hospital, his body slightly turned back towards me. Deep blue eyes meet mine. We both smile nervously and again we turn away.

The bus pulls up in a flurry of cold wind and slushy snow. I board slowly, my orange, mitted hands fumbling with my ticket. I sit back in my seat as the bus speeds away down the street. I'm still smiling.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yay, warm fuzzies at the end there. Please stop me if and when this fic gets too soppy (I blame it on thinking I'm in love – that always sends me into fluffy bunny mode).  
****I was blown away by everyone's reviews. You guys are just the best. During those long nights where I've been at my computer for hours and throwing the blasted thing out the window and never writing fanfiction again seems like the only option, your comments keep me sane. So, cheers to you all. I would love to reply to you all individually but can be a bit picky about that, sorry.**

**THANK YOU to: **Mycemetary,notyours!**, Medik, **Evil Chibi Kitten**, mayfaire, **shinigami's angel01**, Pampers-KND, **ShideDaion Chrystal**, Cyrrer, **Shi**, subzero13, **Shaeric Draconis**, Genkil, **WREC**, Nikkler, **Rebecca (Yay, aussie!)**, tyranimo, **Trai Maxwell**, InfectedLife, **kcgal**Shinko Ryusei, **angel of symphonia**, Devil1.  
****Lady Larrabee: **Oh, you do say the nicest things. I like you. I think I'm going to keep you. I'm glad you like my fics and I promise I am working on the next chapter of 'A Reason For Me' and for my HP fic – blurry muses aren't cooperating, but I'm getting there. Thanks for reviewing – you make me squee! inside.  
**Melony**** Baron: **Ah yes, the ice scene. One of my favourites, too. I've got it all planned out… I just hope that I haven't forgotten that plan by the time I get around to writing it. And I'll write this fic to the end, if only so that you can keep your promise and follow it until then. Ta, ducks.  
**Professor Potter-Malfoy: **I like your name (my inner H/D muse is squeeing). Anyway, I'm glad you like the fic and I think you're right – Heero might be a little jealous. I'd love to write Heero's perspective for this but this is very much a Duo-centric fic and I don't want to interrupt the narrative I have going with his POV. Sorry. But hopefully I'll be able to make it clear what Heero's feeling even if we don't get to hear the inner workings of his mind. Thanks for reviewing.  
**IchigoPocky**Yep, you're right this is based on the Sandra Bullock movie of the same name. There will probably be a little bit of angst but not too much as I'm rather a sucker for sap (though it will probably ruin my reputation to say that). And don't feel bad about missing the Simpsons reference… it was pretty obscure – "lies make baby Jesus cry" – a Rod/Todd (I can never tell them apart) line.  
**Camillian**Ah, well you had a lot of really good questions there, unfortunately I can't answer any of them… you'll just have to wait and see. Sorry ;).  
**ZaKai**I'm glad you like the Duo/Hilde friendship. I love Hilde – she reminds me of a close friend of mine who, incidentally, is also a blanket-stealer. I hope I continue to do a good job… the pressure's really on now.  
**Turtledonkey27: **Hmm, I don't want to give too much away, but yes, Wufei is seeing someone and no, it's not Sally. They're cousins in this fic and I'm not so much into the whole incestuous thing – after all, this fic isn't set in Tasmania (sorry, an Aussie in-joke… very inappropriate. I apologise to any Tasmanians out there).

**M'OK, I'm done. Thanks again to everyone for reviewing (sorry if I missed anyone)… and now, please feel free to review again. I really wouldn't mind. I might considered holding the next chapter to ransom if you don't review… but I'm not that mean. So, in light of my not-meanness, shouldn't I get a reward? Awwww, come on! **


	4. Chapter Four

Title: While You Were Sleeping  
Author: Prynesque  
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap?  
Pairing: 1x2  
Rated: R  
Warnings: OOC (this is an AU – I think it's a given), some swearing, lime/lemon, POV, possible Australian-isms.  
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.  
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).  
Notes: This story is AU so I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! This fic is based on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_ (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don't own it either. It's a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven't seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas.

Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator, is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled further and further into the life of Wufei's welcoming family. To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall in love with Wufei's enigmatic step-brother, Heero.

**Author's Notes: Here we are again… another day, another chapter. Am on holidays so yay! Time to write – or at least think about writing! Or possibly will just go and camp out in the pub. Yeah… that sounds like a good idea.**

**I'm not sure about this chapter (but then, I'm rarely very sure about anything). A couple of people popped up that I hadn't been expecting to see 'til a bit later on. Still, a little bit of Duo-torture never hurt anyone… well, except Duo, obviously… yeah.  
****Anyway, please read and enjoy and respond. You really don't want to know just how far I'll stoop just to get a couple of reviews.**

* * *

**While You Were Sleeping: **

Chapter Four:

Monday morning dawns with arctic temperatures and a weighty dose of reluctance. The weekend off has spoiled me and having to haul myself to work at six in the morning seems infinitely worse than it usually is.

I huddle under my doona in the vain hope that the outside world will bugger off and let me get back to sleeping. Attila takes a flying leap and lands on my bed with a heavy thump. He claws unrepentantly at my ankle, pointedly reminding me of the outside world's existence and, more importantly, his rumbling stomach.

I crawl pathetically out from my cocoon of covers and grumpily begin my day. With such an inauspicious beginning, I have the horrible feeling that it's only going to get worse.

It does, of course. The bad karma that I somehow managed to accrue without even realizing it, dictates that it must. After all, the chances of my name and 'a lucky break' co-existing in the same sentence are about the same as me winning the lotto when I don't even have a ticket.

Fucking freezing doesn't even begin to describe the conditions I'm forced to work with. Within seconds of emerging from my front door, all feeling in my nose has vanished and I'm beginning to suspect that it may have fallen off entirely. The stinging numbness in my fingers tells me that they're probably going to be the next things to jump ship.

I consult my watch, a beaten-up old thing that an ex-boyfriend of Hilde's left at her place and I pilfered. The narrow hands wink smugly at me. I'm late.

It's no surprise really, as I'm late for everything. It's just one of the horrible certainties in this life – like death and taxes and the Republican Party – that will always be there, hanging over me like a black cloud regardless of how much I wish it would just disappear into a black hole for all eternity.

It's a problem that has plagued me most of my life. It used to drive the nuns at the orphanage crazy which, I seem to remember, gave it something of an appeal.

It's not that I go out of my way to be late, it's just that time seems to run away from me. One minute it's five in the morning and I'm dragging myself out of bed as per Attila's insistent orders, and the next thing I know, 45 minutes have passed in which I've achieved nothing and I'm left with a mere fifteen minutes to get dressed, brush my hair, have breakfast and walk to work.

I swear it does it on purpose… time, that is. I refuse to think that it's me. I much prefer to blame my mental image of Grandfather Time, who looks disturbingly like an evangelical preacher I once saw on cable and tends to wear brightly coloured shirts covered in clocks in varying shades of ugly.

Hilde has long since gotten used to my lateness. It used to irritate the shit out of her but she gradually learned to accept it and now, sensibly, turns up at least half an hour late every time we meet and thus ensuring that she'll only have a short wait.

Even our boss is unusually tolerant of it. I think he just can't be bothered telling me off for it any more. That kind of blasé attitude is something we at the Chicago Transit Authority are prestigiously proud of and go out of our way to maintain.

Only Marge, winner of the CTA's Employee of the Month a record number of times, feels the need to be an exception to that rule. She lives under the permanent delusion that winning Employee of the Month is on par with winning the Nobel Prize for Peace. And she seems to take my lateness as a personal affront.

That alone is enough to make me care even less about it. I confess sometimes I do actually do it on purpose, just to see whether I can make her explode from pent-up outrage.

But this morning is not one of those mornings for the simple reason that it's far to fucking cold for dawdling. I hurry down the deserted streets as fast as my frozen legs will carry me. As much as I detest my work, it's gotta be warmer in that little glass booth than it is out here in the wind and snow.

A highly polished SUV with thick chunky wheels and sparkling silver hub-cabs starts up further down the street and pulls out from the curb just as I'm passing. The wheels flail wildly for a moment on the icy road before it exits with a loud squeal. A good foot of snow is churned up in its wake and dumped un-ceremonially in my direction.

Shaking the snow out of my hair, I glare at the retreating vehicle. "Rich fucking bastards… think they own the fucking street… stupid poncy SUV, _look at me, look at me_! I'll look at you in a minute, arsehole!" I mutter to myself as I walk.

The crazy drunk who usually accosts me at this time to tell me that the apocalypse is coming and will be broadcast on Fox gives me a wide berth. This day just keeps getting better and better… I'm being snubbed by the local nutcase – my pathetic-ness has just reached a whole new level.

Finally the subway station looms into view and I stumble into my booth just as my watch ticks past 6:15, a mere quarter of an hour late. That's good going for me, but of course, Marge still feels the need to glare in my direction.

Over the top of her coffee mug (a hideous blue thing bearing the CTA emblem), she fixes me with what she assumes is a withering look. Unfortunately for her, the effect is ruined midway through when her left eye twitches erratically, leaving her looking rather deranged.

On my other side, Hilde mimics her… well, it's either an impersonation of Marge or an accurate depiction of a Hippo having a heart-attack whilst trying to remove a pole from its arse. Either way, it works for the situation.

Marge ignores her, pursing thin lips together painfully tight; she's learnt from previous experience that Hilde is far more likely to win a fight between them, verbal or otherwise. It's a shame… those confrontations were highly amusing and a good way to pass an otherwise dull half hour.

Marge turns away to note my lateness and Hilde's inappropriate behaviour in a formal written complaint (she has a stack of complaint forms by her elbow at all times for this very purpose).

Our supervisor probably has a whole filing cabinet full of them, but that doesn't seem to stop her. I think she just needs to do something to make her life seem worthwhile. And hey, if I can help her in that endeavour… well, that's my good deed for the day done.

Hilde makes a vulgar gesture at her back which makes me laugh. I'm feeling slightly more optimistic about the day now, not quite enough to make up for the horrors of the morning thus far, but it's a start.

I slide the window of my booth open and flick on the radio. The sound of Bob Geldof and the Boomtown Rats fills the air as they croon about just how much they don't like Mondays. I smile. Very appropriate.

By the time the morning rush-hour is in full swing, my good humour is nearly completely spent and the glass is looking distinctly half-empty, if indeed there is anything in it at all. I don't even have Wufei's evening appearance to look forward to… the day just seems to stretch endlessly out before me.

Not bothering to remove my pout, I take turns in being obtuse and rude towards my customers… their glares are almost enough to put the smile back on my face. Petty, I know, but I'd like to see you try to work this job _without_ having to resort to antisocial behaviour just to make it through the day.

Our lunch break rolls around eventually (though not nearly as quickly as I'd like it to), and Hilde and I scuttle out of our booths like rats from a sinking ship. Who knew a glass box could be so suffocating? After six hours of being in there, listening to people whinge about the cost of public transport and the state of the subways, the walls start closing in on you and whacking your head against the nearest hard surface seems like the only solution.

You know, it's a wonder I've lasted so long in this job, really. I know I'd do just about anything to work somewhere else and I'm fairly sure every other ticket booth operator in the city feels the same way.

Well, OK, not Marge, of course…but then, she seems to think that working for the CTA is a badge of honour and would probably live in her booth if she could.

Sitting on a bench on Platform 6, Hilde and I have a good ten minute bitch about this, secure in the knowledge that Marge is probably muttering similar things to herself about us.

"So did you go to the hospital yesterday?" Hilde casually slips the question in amongst the anti-Marge comments.

"Yes," I tell her reluctantly. I stare at my half-eaten tuna sandwich, wondering what it would take to successfully change the subject.

"And?" She waits expectantly. "Come on, you can't deprive me of the details now. At the rate you're going, this is gonna to turn out to be better than _Passions_."

I refrain from commenting on her appalling taste in TV. "It was fine. Nice. Quatre was there when I arrived, we had coffee together, chatted about life and the universe… I spent the afternoon with Trowa in Wufei's room and then had a brief conversation with Heero before I came home," I say hastily in one breath.

Hilde blinks. "OK, wait, go back. Who's who? And what happened to what's-her-face from the other day?"

"Sally? She wasn't there. I think she had to work. She's a doctor," I add, for the sake of the general background picture. Hilde nods and I continue. "Quatre is one of Wufei's friends. They were at high school together… He's a Winner, one of the Winner Inc. Winners, but he was disowned by his father for being gay. Trowa is Quatre's partner. He was Wufei's roommate at college and they had a short-lived affair. He likes to read porny hetero romance novels in his spare time."

"You speak like you actually know these people," Hilde mutters.

"I do. I'm getting to know them."

"You're getting in over your head," she retorts, one eyebrow raised at me. "OK and what about this hero fellow?"

"It's _Heero_," I tell her, stressing the pronunciation. Her raised eyebrow disappears into her hair line but she doesn't comment. "And he's Wufei's step-brother. He's… well, actually I don't really know much about him at all. We had a minor, sort of… argument thing the night before last, but we've sorted it all out now."

"And minor, sort of argument thing?"

"Yeah, he didn't believe me. Said I wasn't Wufei's type."

"And you didn't think to say 'oh, yes, you're probably right and besides, we aren't actually dating anyway'?" The sarcasm is practically dripping from her lips and I cringe.

"Well, yeah I did think about it…" I trail off and then hurriedly continue. "But I couldn't because Heero… he's got this glare that just roots you to the spot and…"

"OK, OK." Hilde holds her hands up in defeat. "Just promise me one thing, babe?"

I meet her gaze. She's looking unnervingly sincere. "What?"

"When all of this is over… I get to tell you 'I told you so' to my heart's content." Sincerity gives way to mischievous humour. I lean across the gap between us. "Owww!" she exclaims when my hands makes sharp contact with her thigh. "Watch it! You keep that up and you're gonna lose the only ally you've got!"

I harrumph at her. "An ally who doesn't support me in my hour of need isn't much of an ally," I pout.

"Your 'hour of need'? Please, you're committing fraud, not bleeding to death!" is the acerbic retort. I crumple at that and she looks suitably abashed. "OK, OK, I'm sorry. Please feel free to whine to me about all your fraud-related problems."

She grins at my sharp look and slings one arm around my shoulder. "Oh Duo, for reasons that can only attest to my insanity, I love you." She kisses my cheek in a hard, impetuous fashion. "Come on, let's go. Marge is tapping her watch at us."

I perk up. "She is? Great! That must mean there's time for us to grab a coffee." Hilde laughs and Marge glares and I just try to keep my wandering thoughts away from Wufei and Heero and the rest of my fraud-related problems.

* * *

I go to the hospital straight from work. I tell myself it's just because I'm used to seeing Wufei at this time, and traditions should always be honoured… but not even the gullible little voice in my head believes that one.

I run into Sally while I'm waiting for the lift. She's wearing a long white coat beneath her jacket and I think she might have come straight from work as well.

"Hello, Duo," she says in a tired voice. There is an awkward pause and then she gives me a brief but warm hug. "It's nice to see you again." I'm floored by the sincerity in her tone.

"Yeah, you too." I cast about for a conversation starter. "Just come from work?" I finally settle on.

"Yes, I've had a horrible day. Two major car accidents and a shooting… and that was just the first hour." She shakes her head sadly. "It's days like these that make me wish I'd gone into General Practice instead of the ER." I give her my best commiserating smile as the elevator doors glide shut behind us.

"What about you?" she asks as the lift takes off with a slightly jolt.

"Oh, I spent ten hours in a glass booth taking shit from obnoxious commuters," I tell her wishing it was an exaggeration. "I work in a ticket booth," I add for the sake of explanation.

"Well… it's nice to know that I'm not the only one with a job that's all fun, fun, fun!" She casts me a slightly bitter smile. Her shoulders suddenly look very narrow, far too narrow to be carrying whatever burdens she has taken on.

We shuffle backwards to make room in the lift for a man in a wheelchair. He has a broken leg, which juts out in its white plaster looking horribly awkward. He is accompanied by his rather irate-looking wife who is berating him for his lousy timing.

"A broken-leg?" she squawks, flapping her arms about and narrowly missing clocking Sally in the face. "Of all the times! Could you be any more selfish, John, huh?"

"I didn't break it on purpose," John mumbles softly, staring balefully at his plaster cast.

"Oh please! You've been trying to get out of visiting my mother for months! I hope you're happy now!" John mutters something that no one catches and heaves a hollow sigh.

Sally and I excuse ourselves politely when we reach Wufei's floor. The doors glide shut again with a gentle ding. We exchange a look. "Well, I'll say this for hospitals, they're a lot more entertaining that a GP's office," is Sally's only comment. The smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

The sheets on Wufei's bed have been changed. Stark white has been replaced by soft sea green. It's the first thing I notice. And then I feel guilty and busy myself looking everywhere but at that pale green linen.

Trowa is seated in the far corner. His long, lean legs stretch out in front of him, crossed at the ankle and his hands are folded in his lap, resting on top of a worn-looking newspaper. He looks serene, like a silent marble statue, all grace and smooth, handsome lines. His gaze is fixed on a random spot on the far wall. He doesn't notice us until the door bangs shut, jolting him out of his meditative daze.

He smiles at us. It's a tired smile. I wonder how long he's been here; how long he's been sitting with the shadow of Wufei. He draws his legs in, allowing Sally to bustle past him to Wufei's bedside.

Wufei lies there, un-moving beneath those pale, watery sheets. His skin has taken on a slightly unhealthy-looking grey tinge, the look of someone who has seen not enough sunlight.

Before he looked like he was sleeping, still and peaceful. Now it's clear that he's not, that I couldn't wake him with a gentle shake or a tender kiss. He's in a coma. The word seems to sink into me for the first time and I shiver.

I think Sally sees it as well. She doesn't shiver but her shoulders tense slightly, a reflexive, anxious movement.

She fusses about the room in an endearing but slightly nagging fashion. She changes the water in a vase of ostentatious-looking flowers that I suspect are from Wufei's work and smoothes his blankets until they are taut across his motionless body. She checks his chart and his various beeping machines and taps authoritatively at his saline drip.

She needs to keep moving, needs to be useful, needs to feel like she's doing something to help. She can't bear to sit by and resign Wufei to his almost lifeless fate. Trowa and I exchange a look. I'm not entirely sure what those green eyes are trying to tell me but I feel slightly calmer.

Finally Sally sinks into the nearest chair with a sign of resignation. Her right hand trembles against the cool plastic arm rest. She stares at it for a moment and when the tremors don't abate, she sits on it, clenching her other hand into a fist.

I try to think of something reassuring to say to her. I remember the way she melted into Heero when he arrived on that first night; the way his mere presence lifted some of the weight off those quivering shoulders; the way his reassurance seeped into her… and into me. I find myself wishing he was here.

Trowa takes her clenched fist in his hand. Slowly it uncurls and their fingers twine together. I smile but in my pockets my own hands feel strangely empty. I wish someone would hold my hand, would squeeze it gently and let me know that everything will be alright.

"I keep expecting that he'll be awake when I get here." Sally's voice is sad but even. "The doctor part of me knows that all we can do it wait, but the other part… the other part cries out that waiting isn't good enough." Her voice shakes slightly at the end and her grip on Trowa's hand is so tight that his fingers are starting to turn purple. He doesn't make any move to disengage himself though.

I sidle up to Wufei. My hands linger just above his skin. I want to reach out and touch his hands, to twine our fingers together like Sally and Trowa. But inside me, there is the nagging sensation that I can't, that those hands aren't mine to hold.

Instead I settle for smoothing a stray lock of pitch black hair back off his forehead. My fingertips brush against the curve of his eyebrow. His skin is warm, not cold and deathly still like it looks. I breathe again in relief.

When I look up Sally and Trowa are watching me. I feel suddenly very naked under their gaze. But then Sally's eyes smile and I feel better than I have all day.

Heero and Quatre arrive together just as the nursing staff is changing rotation. Their cheeks are flushed pink from the cold outside and there are still glistening, white snowflakes in Heero's thick, dark hair.

They are both wearing suits, clean, executive lines of deep blue and grey. They look professional in the sort of way that I would never be able to pull off, even if I had the threads to match. Still, I notice that while Quatre looks like he was born in his suit, Heero looks slightly uncomfortable, like he still hasn't worked out whether he outfit is him or not.

Quatre kisses Sally's cheek and then sits himself on Trowa's lap, in an affectionate and unconsciously possessive fashion. Trowa winds one long arm around Quatre's waist, pulling him closer, the palm of his hand snug against Quatre's stomach. His other hand remains linked with Sally's.

Heero closes the door behind them and moves across the room. His black leather shoes click on the tiled floor. He draws up behind Sally and rests his hands on her shoulders. She smiles to herself and I catch the visible relief.

On the other side of the room, I'm depressingly removed. They look so comfortable together. A proper family. Suddenly I feel more alone that I have for a long time. I linger by Wufei's bedside, too afraid to join their circle.

It's Quatre that finally nods to me, a subtle jerk of his head but an unmistakable invitation. I stand next to Heero and behind Trowa, gazing at Wufei over that head of chestnut hair.

After a brief moment, Heero shifts subtly to the side so that his shoulder is pressed against mine. The warmth of his body seeps into me through the soft, expensive material of his suit. I smile and feel the same relief that settled over Sally just moments earlier.

It's an almost perfect moment, and so, of course, it doesn't last. Out of the blue, the door bangs open with surprising force, shattering the quiet calm.

A tall, suave man with red-brown hair and deep eyes appears around the door frame. "Good-evening. I'm sorry to disturb you like this," he murmurs, hovering in the doorway. His voice is deep and smooth and his smile is nothing but brilliant white teeth.

"No, it's fine, Treize. Do come in." Sally's tone is polite but not particularly welcoming. She unlinks her hand from Trowa's and waves the stranger into the room.

He glides across the room to the spot where I was standing mere minutes before. He reaches one hand out, as if he's going to touch Wufei, but then seems to think better of it. The hand falls back to his side with effortless grace.

"I think you know everyone," Sally says and then remembers me. "Oh, this is Wufei's boyfriend, Duo," she adds. The glow that I once felt at hearing that is starting to wear off.

Treize turns that winning smile on me. "Ah, yes… I suspected there might be a boyfriend," he says. The glow is positively gone now. His tone is playful but the twinkle is missing from his eyes. "I'm Treize Krushrenada… Wufei's lawyer." The lawyer's lawyer. I return the smile and shake his hand. He reminds me of a shark.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you all but I'm afraid there are some legal matters I need to discuss with you and Heero, Sally." Treize ignores the rest of us. The 'in private' is a given.

"Oh, go ahead," Sally responds. "We're all family here." I fancy there is a slight tightness to her voice.

"Very well," he gives a tiny bow, which is both mocking and patronizing. I sense Heero frown beside me. "I'm the executor of Wufei's will…" Treize begins in that cool lawyer's voice of his.

"He's not dead!" Heero's voice is cold and low; it carries a warning.

Treize waves it off with a smile. "Of course not, but the matter of Medical Power of Attorney is applicable to the current situation." Treize's act slips momentarily but then the gracious charm is back. "Wufei made it expressly clear that he wished a 'Do Not Resuscitate' order to take effect should his condition deteriorate…"

Sally cuts him off, in doctor mode. "The tests have confirmed high brain activity levels. At the moment there is everything to suggest that he will wake up. A DNR is not relevant just yet."

Treize's charming smile tightens. "Of course, but it is my duty to ensure that you are fully aware of his wishes _should_ his condition deteriorate."

"I'm not sure this is the place to be discussing this," Quatre intervenes diplomatically.

Treize turns his gaze on Quatre. I get the distinct impression that he thinks very little of Wufei's familial group, of emotional rather than legal relationships. "Very well. Heero, if you could come and see me at my offices at your earliest convenience, we can discuss the matter then."

Heero's head snaps up. "Why me?"

"Because Wufei clearly stated that he wanted _you_ to have Medical Power of Attorney," is the smooth, condescending response.

"It should be Sally. She's his cousin… a blood-relative," Heero replies. He has removed his hands from Sally's shoulders. They are clenched into fists at his side; I can feel his knuckles against my thigh.

"Be that as it may, but he stated that it was be you." There is a long moment in which Heero and Treize just stare at each other. There is something in their eyes, a flash of communication. I'm reminded of two stags, circling each other. I tense, waiting for the moment when their antlers crash together in the violent surge for domination.

"That's fine, Treize. Thank you for coming," Sally breaks in, rising to her feet and extending a hand to Treize. This meeting is clearly over. Beside me, the tension seeps out of Heero.

"You're welcome, Sally. I wish you all the best," he says, shaking her hand. I don't miss Sally wiping her hand on her white coat and neither does Treize.

He smiles one last time and then he's gone. His cologne lingers in the air for many long minutes after.

Sally sits down again with a heavy sigh. She smiles up at Heero and he returns it, though I fancy it's slightly forced.

"You know, I've never liked Treize Khrushrenada," Trowa comments idly, twining his long fingers through Quatre's.

"No, me neither," Sally confirms. "He was always such a smarmy wanker." She sneers at the spot where he was just standing.

"I wonder what Wufei ever saw in him," Quatre ponders, leaning back against Trowa's shoulder. I feel my own shoulders tense. Treize's cologne fills my nostrils, mingling with a tiny stab of jealousy. "Thankfully his taste has improved since those early days," Quatre concludes, smiling at me.

Trowa cocks his head one side. "What about me?"

Quatre laughs and even Sally manages a chuckle. "You were always exceptional." Quatre placates him with a gentle kiss.

They bicker in that affectionate, teasing way that many couples have, with the odd interjection from Sally. I think I'm the only one who notices when Heero quietly slips out of the room.

I find him outside the hospital cafeteria. He's sitting on a low bench, hunched forwards, his head in his hands. His tie is undone, hanging limp and loose around his neck.

I'm not sure what's bothering him or how I can make it better, but I know, just from looking at the defeated slump of his shoulders and the shuttered look in his eyes, that I want to try.

I slide gently onto the bench beside him. I perch there for an awkward moment, waiting, I think, for him to tell me that he wants to be alone. When he doesn't, I settle back. My thigh rests gently against his.

He doesn't look up when I sit. In fact, it's several long moments before he stirs. Eventually he sits back, allowing his head to fall against the wall behind him. His hair is even messier than usual, tousled by nervous hands carding through those thick locks, and his eyes are closed, eyelashes gently resting against smooth bronze skin.

I wait and eventually he speaks. "He should have picked Sally," he says quietly. "She's a doctor… they share blood. Wufei would have been better off putting his life in her hands."

I feel a stab of sympathy. There is something akin to defeat in his voice and I find myself wanting to hug him. Instead, I tentatively reach out and rest my hand on his thigh. His eyes fly open and he stares at me for a moment. I can't quite work out the look he gives me.

Finally, he attempts a smile. I return it in what I hope is a reassuring way. His smile widens slightly and I feel a corresponding glow of gratification.

There is a long moment of silence. "I'm not sure I could do it," Heero says eventually. His confession is soft and low and I almost miss his words. "I'm not sure I could make that decision."

The defeat is gone, now he just sounds… broken. It suddenly occurs to me that Quatre and Trowa have each other for support, that Sally has Heero to lean on… but who comforts the comforter? Who holds his hand and tells _him _that everything will be OK. I'm reminded of empty hands in pockets.

"Wufei obviously picked you for a reason. He trusts you…" My voice is slightly croaky and I break off, trying to work out what it is I'm attempting to say. I want to say something comforting, something that will make Heero smile and make the tension leave him… something that will make him feel the way Sally felt when he arrived… the way _I_ felt…

"Wufei likes to be in control, doesn't he?" I take a punt based on what I've uncovered from the others about him. I'm gratified when Heero nods.

"He likes to be in control of his life… and I guess it makes sense that he would want to be in control of his death as well. He chose you because he trusts you with his life, to hold it in your hands and to put his wishes first… to know him and to honour him." I pause, wondering if I'm saying the right thing. "He wants it to be you."

For a long moment, Heero doesn't respond, he just stares at me, an indecipherable look in his eyes. Eventually he reaches out and lays his hand on top of mine. Calloused fingers brush against the back of my hand, warm and solid and comforting. "Thank you, Duo," he says, bowing his head slightly.

I grin, feeling a sudden glow inside me. "You're welcome, Heero."

We stay there like that for many long minutes, sitting side-by-side on the cold, hard plastic bench. I lean gently against him, resting our shoulders together. He takes my weight with a funny little smile.

"You know… if you'd told me on Friday that we'd be sitting here like this today… I would have laughed. I was so determined to hate you."

I laugh. "But you don't, right?" I'm fairly sure that waver in my voice is nervousness.

Heero chuckles. "No, I don't." He casts me a sideways glance. "I've never liked any of Wufei's previous lovers," he says after a moment. "I didn't even like _Trowa_ until after he and Wufei stopped doing whatever it was they were doing." There is a slight frown between his eyebrows. "And Khrushrenada was a definite low point… But I think I like you."

A warm glow envelops me, starting in my hand, still covered by Heero's, and winding its way through my whole body. I think I might be blushing.

"I still stand by the fact that you're not Wufei's type." I raise an eyebrow at him. "But maybe that's what Wufei needs." He pauses and I try to hold onto my glow instead of the guilt that is beginning to seep in. "When this is all over, I'll get him a beer and ask."

When this is all over, you'll hate me and the question won't even be relevant… I nearly say it; it lingers on my tongue. I bite it back and feel the acrid, metallic taste of blood.

"Come on, we should get back before Sally sends out a search party," Heero says after a moment.

I nod, somewhat reluctant. I don't think I'd mind if we just sat here together for the rest of the night.

Heero releases my hand. It tingles slightly even after I've stuffed it back into my pocket. "I think I might just head home. S'been a long day," I mumble to the floor. Now that our moment is over, I feel a little bit awkward.

"Oh right, of course." Heero almost sounds… disappointed. "Well, I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah, later. Say goodbye to the others for me?" I ask, not meeting his gaze.

"Of course."

We hover for a moment and then I turn away. Heero catches my arm, tugging back. I finally look up. That indescribable, iridescent blue stares back at me.

"I just... I'm not very good with emotions and… yeah, thanks." He clears his throat uncomfortably and nods.

"Yeah, you're welcome." And then I laugh. "God, could we be anymore inarticulate?"

He laughs as well and those blue eyes deepen almost imperceptibly. "Probably… we shouldn't tempt fate," he says with mock seriousness.

I grin. "Bye, Heero."

"Bye," is the gentle response. And this time when I turn away, he doesn't pull me back. I try not to feel disappointed.

* * *

The cold hits me like a solid wall of ice the moment I leave the hospital. I huddle down into my jacket and in my pocket, my hand curls into a tight fist, desperately trying to hold onto Heero's warmth.

I'm halfway down the driveway when I voice calls out my name. I whirl around. For some ridiculous reason, I'm expecting it to be Heero.  
But it's Nurse Jones. She waddles down the drive towards me, tugging her jacket around her with one hand, a white, plastic bag swinging from the other.

When she reaches me, she needs a moment to catch her breath. I shuffle from foot to foot in cold, waiting for her to speak.

"Here," she manages eventually, holding the bag out to me. "These are Wufei's things. He had the bag with him when he was brought in and I just added his personal effects. We've kept his clothes for when… for when he wakes up." She slips the bag into my hand, smiling a dimpled smile. "That dark-haired man with the blue eyes suggested I give them to you," she adds.

I duck my head, inexplicably embarrassed. "Thanks, Nurse Jones," I mumble, though really, I think the thanks are meant for Heero.

"Oh, please… call me Sylvia."

"Sylvia," I repeat with a nod and she beams.

"Great. I gotta get back inside before the matron misses me. I'll see you round, Duo." And then she's gone, wobbling away back up the drive.

I stare at the bag in my hands, wondering what to do with it. Slowly, I peer inside. The first thing I see is a wallet, soft brown leather with dark stitching and a faded embossed C in the corner. I draw it out and flick it open. I feel strangely voyeuristic and for a moment I swear it burns in my hand. I close it again, without looking, and drop it back into the bag.

There is a watch as well. I recognize it; I've seen it many times before, curled around the smooth bronze of Wufei's wrist. I let one finger graze over the polished silver surface. It jangles against a set of assorted keys. There is a newspaper as well. Friday's copy of the Times, folded and waiting to be read on the subway journey home.

The last item is a can. I flip it over to read the label. I know it at once. The cheerful green writing and the winking cartoon fish… cat food. I frown, puzzled. And then… shit, Wufei has a cat.

I wonder if anyone has been feeding it and then I remember… _I should go… er… got to feed the cat and all_… that's what I said when I left on Friday night. I was talking about Attila, but now I recognize the nod of comprehension Sally gave me.

I reach for the wallet again and when it flips open I dive straight in for Wufei's driver's license. His handsome, smiling face momentarily distracts me. I tear my eyes away and focus on the address. I memorise it quickly and before I know it, I've hailed a cab.

The driver pulls into the curb beside an elegant, 19th century block of town houses. "This is?" he asks in his rough accent.

I nod, even though I'm not sure. I pay him with the little money left in my wallet. I wince. It'll have to be a lean week, I think.

I wait until the cab has disappeared in a cloud of exhaust fumes before I mount the graceful, carved steps. I glance at the row of buzzers. There, written in neat, straight script, is _Chang, W_ – _no. 5_.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and select the biggest, oldest looking key. It slides effortlessly into the lock and clicks with the merest flick of my wrist.

The Entrance Hall is elegantly furnished, with a high, arched ceiling and a tall, winding, polished staircase at the centre. It snakes upwards and I shakily ascend feeling so out of place that I'm surprised someone hasn't popped out of the expensive-looking wall paneling to eject me.

No. 5 looms before me. For several long moments I just stand in the corridor with my hand on the brass door handle. Eventually a little strength returns to me and I work my way through the remaining keys until the lock finally clicks and the door swings open.

It's dark inside and the faint scent of some musky incense still lingers in the air. The door bangs shut just as I reach for the nearest light switch. I wince when the room is flooded with light and then I gasp. The room is so overwhelmingly Wufei. He is reflected in every surface. It's almost like being inside his mind.

The room is black and white in theme. Pristine white carpet contrast with smart, sophisticated, black suede couches. I reach out one finger and run it along the soft leather. I imagine Wufei reclining here, stretching those long legs out.

The dining room table beyond is smooth dark wood and in the centre, a creamy vase stands tall and elegant. But the flowers have died, and dried petals are strewn across the polished surface of the table.

It's the long, far left wall that catch my attention. The paint is a simple white, but hung at regular intervals, neat and exact, are glossy black and white photos. Instinctively, I move towards them, drawn there by something I can't identify.

A yowl stops me in my place. The owner of the cry appears in the doorway. She is beautiful, lean and elegant; her fur is soft and white, with smoky smudges of black around her eyes and on the tips of her paws and ears and tail. Siamese.

Her nose twitches slightly and she cocks her head to the side as she surveys the intruder. She looks beyond me for Wufei and I swear she looks confused when he doesn't appear.

Eventually she trots forwards. The little bell around her neck jingles merrily in the silence of the flat. She winds her way through my legs, purring a deep low purr that goes straight to my heart.

I'm surprised when she allows me to pick her up. She curls into my embrace in a way that Attila never would. Butting at my chin with the top of her head, she stares balefully at me with deep blue eyes. I start a little and then smile. I'm getting used to blue eyes.

The shiny silver disk on her collar identifies her. I read the name twice and then regard her. Yes, she looks like a Natuku.

"Come on, girl. Let's get you some food." She mews in agreement and rubs her cheek against my shoulder. I let my gaze linger, just one last time on the photos and promise to come back to them.

Wufei's kitchen is all shiny metal and clean efficient lines. I try not to think of my own pathetic excuse for a kitchen with its cracked tiles, warped cupboards and humming second-hand appliances.

One of the low cupboards is open. A large packet of dried cat food has been dragged out, the contents strewn across the polished wood floor. I smile at Natuku and she purrs proudly in response.

I wonder if Attila would have the sense to do that if I suddenly didn't come home for three days. Probably not; I'm sure he'd just slink outside and find a little old lady to devour.

I scoop the food back into its packet. Natuku butts at my fingers as I work intimating that she'd be rather interested in something else if I would be so kind as to fulfill her request. I rumple her delicate fur in response and she stalks away to sit grumpily on the end of the kitchen bench.

I soon as I've got the tin in hands, though, she's back, mewing and rubbing her lean body against me. She fairly demolishes the glistening wet food. Within moments she's done and she looks up at me with a pleading expression. When it becomes clear that I'm not going to feed her again, she wanders away.

I follow and we end up in what must be Wufei's bedroom. My gaze falls on the large bed with its neat black and white covers. I can imagine Wufei lying there, golden skin against the contrasting colours. I blush when my thoughts take a slightly less appropriate turn.

Natuku curls up on Wufei's pillow and begins to wash herself. I turn away to give her a little privacy. Temptation takes me and I wander over to the wardrobe. Rows of neat suits and more casual items hang there. They smell like Wufei; I press my nose to the soft material and sigh.

Suddenly I feel like the worst kind of pervert. I slam the wardrobe door shut again. Natuku looks up, mid-lick, at the sound and I take the hint.

Back in the living room, I sidle up to Wufei's photos. I wonder if I should be doing this. It's his home… an extension of him and this feel awfully like a betrayal. I wouldn't want someone poking around in my apartment, rifling through my things, pouring over the very private details of my life. But I can't help myself. Always when it comes to Wufei, I have no self-control.

I run my gaze briefly down the line and realise that it's the story of his life, played out in black and white photography. There are just six in total, but I sense that each one represents a moment from Wufei's life that he considers worth remembering.

I start with the first picture, closest to the TV. It shows a stern looking man with Wufei's nose and lips. He is standing beside a gentle-looking woman who bears softly waving hair and eyes that I've seen every evening for a year. In her arms is a baby with a puzzled look on his infant face and a tuft of dark hair. Mother and child are staring at each other, and one, tiny baby hand is curling upwards to clutch at a lose strand of his mother's hair. Only the father is staring at the camera. I look into those still eyes and I see pride.

The next photo is of Wufei and his father and a gangly-looking girl that I suddenly realise is Sally. They are outside and a slight wind must have been blowing because Sally's hair is swirling around her head in a tousled haze.

Wufei looks about seven, and his features are starting to grow into the smooth angular lines I recognize. He is sitting atop his father's shoulders, hands buried in his father's thick dark hair. Sally is beside her uncle, clutching at his hand, almost dragging him along. They all look uncharacteristically open and relaxed; I don't think any of them realised the photo was being taken.

I move on to the next picture. It's a wedding scene. Wufei's father stands before the ornate wooden doors of a church. A thirteen year old Wufei stands at his father's side, staring resolutely at the camera, a hint of a smile on his adolescent face.

Sally is just behind him, wearing a curved smile and a simple white dress. She looks to be in her late teens; she has that confident, self-awareness that many young adults have. Her smile is directed at her uncle and his hand is resting gently on her narrow shoulders.

The bride is a soft, almost ethereal-looking woman with a contented smile and deep, intense eyes that I realise I've seen before. The boy at her side is, of course, Heero. He is the only one not smiling but there is a satisfied air to his stance. I peer close and realise that his pinky finger is linked with his mother's. Sweet is the first word that comes to mind and I smile a secret smile.

Quatre features in the next photo and he looks virtually the same as he does now. His face is, perhaps, a little rounder but those twinkling eyes are very familiar and although the monochrome of the picture has coloured his hair a soft grey, I can vividly picture the natural blonde glow.

He is standing between Heero and Wufei and it must be their senior prom because they are all wearing tuxedos and an attempted air of sophistication. Sally and a tall blonde woman are just visible in the background. Slightly out of focus, they appear to be giggling. I wonder if that has anything to do with the long-suffering look on Heero's face.

Next is Graduation Day. Several years have passed and the black and white faces that stare back at me are almost identical to their present day incarnations. It's a group photo with Wufei and Trowa at the centre. The sharp black of their caps and gowns contrasts with the sun that is clearly shining.

Trowa has one arm draped around Quatre's shoulders in casual possession and they are smiling at each other. I fancy there is just the slightest hint of a blush on Quatre's pale cheeks. Behind them are the tall blonde woman from the graduation photo and a shorter woman with wild curls and cheeky smile. On the otherside, just behind Wufei are Sally and Heero, their heads gently bent together as they smile at the camera.

The last photo is easily the most beautiful. The relaxed nature of its subjects is palpable as is the depth of emotion between them. Unaware of the photographer's presence, three faces laugh together, their easy smiles captured flawlessly.

It's winter and soft, dull flecks of white indicate that it's snowing. Sally has her head on Wufei's shoulder and she is laughing into the thick, woollen scarf around his neck, her eyes closed and her mouth wide. Wufei and Heero are gazing at each other over her head, their faces cracked in smiles, and an air of bemusement in their eyes.

I stare at this photo for the longest… at the curve of Wufei's smile, the soft lines of Sally's laugh, and the deepness of Heero's eyes.

The phone jolts me out of my daze. It rings shrilly twice and then the answering machine clicks on. Wufei's deep, velvety voice fills the room. "You've reached Chang Wufei. Leave a message after the tone." I smile because it's just so adorably blunt. Natuku suddenly appears in the doorway at the sound of her master's voice. She twitches her nose, confused when she doesn't see him.

My smile fades when the caller responds. "Wufei it's me…" says a man with a deep, sophisticated upper-class New England accent. "You haven't returned any of my calls so… clearly you weren't serious about wanting to talk." There is a long pause and then, "Goodbye, Wufei," concludes the voice with depressing finality.

The harsh beep of the machine ends the call. I stand in Wufei's sitting room for several minutes, feeling distinctly like I've heard something I shouldn't have.

This must be the elusive boyfriend that more than one person has hinted at. Only now… well, now it sounds like it's over. I feel guilty; it gnaws away inside me. But that doesn't stop me from pressing the play button on the recorder.

The first message, the automated voice tells me, is from Friday night. I start at the time… Wufei and I were probably lying on the train tracks while this message was being left.

"Wufei, it's me," the voice begins. "Look, something came up at work. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you. Call me when you get in." I remember the anger on Wufei's face when he bought his token that night and suddenly realise the cause.

When the second message begins, I fancy the voice sounds a little worried. "It's me again. You didn't return my call." There is a confused paused and then, "I have to fly to California tonight for a week or so… Call me on my cell phone." Another pause. "Please." Yet another pause before the caller finally hangs up.

That was Saturday night. The third was recorded last night. There is distinct frustration in the smooth voice now. "It's me… _again_. Look, you were the one who wanted to talk… if you still want…" It cuts off with an angry sigh. "Just call me, Wufei."

I slump with shame as the most recent message plays again. I can hear the sadness now… _goodbye, Wufei_…

My stomach churns violently, bitter, acidic guilt rising in my throat. For a moment I think I'm going to be sick. I'm halfway towards the bathroom before the sensation subsides. I wonder who Wufei's mysterious caller is. He doesn't know about Wufei, about the pale green sheets and the grey lifelessness that hangs in the air around him. He doesn't know how final that goodbye could be.

I don't have a name and there is no way I can contact him and in a way I'm relieved. It's disappointing to realise how glad I am that I don't have to make the decision about whether to call him or not. I feel horrible because deep down inside, I don't know whether I would… whether I would have the strength to give up my dream and Wufei's family to this collected, polished man.

That aristocratic voice echoes in my head. I can almost picture the face that goes with it. He probably has the refinement of European royalty, stylish and poised and undeniably handsome. And long hair, he'll have long hair.

And suddenly I'm seeing a pattern… this unknown, sophisticate… the charming Treize Khrushrenada… even Trowa has that calm, steady elegance. This is what Heero meant when he said I wasn't Wufei's type. It's so glaringly obvious. Of course, he wouldn't go for someone like me… God, look at me!

And suddenly it's all too much… guilt, self-pity and anger that I don't even know the cause of, they swirl around inside me, making my head pound, my stomach twist and my heart ache.

I need to get out. I can't stay here any longer. The shadows of Wufei and his mysterious lover surround me, angry and upset and mocking.

Natuku yowls in undignified protest when I nearly bowl her over in my haste. My hand finds the light switch, plunging the room back into darkness and the door bangs shut behind me.

I run… in fact, I don't stop running until I reach the familiar flat with its familiar white balcony railing, faded tinsel wound around it.

When I knock, a tall red-haired man with a cheerful smile and hazy grey eyes appears. "Hey Duo!" Alex says and then the tone turns to concern. "Are you alright?"

My eyes are watering, which must just be from the cold I tell myself stubbornly. I don't answer because I'm not entirely sure I trust myself.

"Come on in," he says gently, grabbing me by the elbow and steering me inside out of the cold. The heat from the vents hits me at once and I feel an almost instant sense of relief.

Hilde appears in the doorway wearing a faded pink apron and an oven mitt in the shape of a lobster. "Hey, Duo babe…" she breaks off when she sees the look on my face. She and Alex engage in some sort of silent communication over my head and then slowly he divests me of my coat and steers me towards the couch.

"Timmy hasn't fallen in the well again, has he?" Hilde attempts a tentative joke, referring to our earlier conversation.

"Something like that," I croak. "I just needed to see a friendly face."

With not an 'I told you so' in sight, she gives me a tight, impassioned hug. "I've got just the thing to make you feel better," she says with a grin. At the sight of that smile I automatically feel a bit better. She just has that effect, Hilde. I cling to her for just a little bit long. God, how I love this woman.

When I finally release her, she brushes my fringe back and gently strokes my damp braid. "I'm making yams," she says with a nod and disappears back into the kitchen.

I manage a laugh. "Yams?" I ask, looking up at Alex.

He gives a wry smile and rakes long fingers through his curly red hair. "Don't ask," he replies, shaking his head. "You just sit there and relax and I'll get you a beer."

And so I do. The heat seeps into me, chasing away the cold and the pain and the voice from the answering machine.

I clench my hand into a fist and when I release it, I swear it almost feels like the sensation of Heero's warmth is still there. I cling to it, trying desperately to reign in the tears that threaten to fall.

I'm hopelessly tangled in a web of my own making… and for the life of me, I have no idea how I'll get out of it now.

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**Author's Notes: Dun-nah! Finished. This chapter anyway. I'll be back as soon as I can because this is where things really start to get interesting... prepares to step up the Heero/Duo interaction… and grins wickedly**

**But first, a bit of a thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter... blows kisses**

**Shinigami's**** Angel01, **Nocens**, ZaKai, **BlueBolt**, Citizen Cobalt the st,** SilverYami**, castalvia, **EmperessRose**, DuosGemini, **Patty 40**, Medik, **Muchacha**, Hells-angel8, **F-chan1**, mayfaire, **IchigoPocky.  
**Memeal: **Yay! I missed your reviews. I'm glad to have you back. And of course I don't need one for every chapter… but I'll take them if you're offering. Oh, and an update on my Stairclimber crush – mah! Disappointingly straight! Poor little Pryn… nobody loves her. Meh, anyway… ta for reviewing, darling, and of course, for reviewing "Reason" – whee! Still love you. Have gone crazy. Nevermind.  
**Tysoyo**** Kalli: **Squee! You say nice things. Me likes you. I'm so thrilled you like my Hilde. I confess I rather like her too. A lot of the girls in GW get such a raw deal in fanfiction and I wanted something different for mine. So… yay! And as for porn-reading Trowa – well, that's straight from reality. I have a friend who is gay as they come and he has a secret soft spot for hetero porn. So yeah… thanks for reviewing. Squee again!  
**Lady Larrabee: **Yes, love… hmmmm. I'm a bit grumpy at that the moment. Gah! All the nice women who hate Stairmaster as much as I do are straight. Not fair! But met old school friend at bar (mmmm, cute guy from school) and now have date. Yay! And I totally agree – romance is way better than action (although there are times when you just want to watch stuff being blown up). Thanks for reviewing, your words always make me glow.  
**Subzero13: **Yep, you're right. The plot does come straight from the Sandra Bullock movie. Am too tired to come up with own plot. But hopefully have managed to give the story my own flavour. Or something like that. Cheers for reviewing.

**And to anyone I may have inadvertently forgotten. Yay! Love you all!  
****On a semi-related note: to everyone following my other fic "A Reason For Me," rest assured that I most definitely haven't given it up and have even started the next chapter (well, I have one sentence… hey! Don't give me that look). Expect an update for that fic and this one when you see it... grins... Cheers, loves!**


	5. Chapter Five

Title: While You Were Sleeping  
Author: Prynesque  
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap?  
Pairing: 1x2  
Rated: R  
Warnings: OOC (this is an AU – I think it's a given), some swearing, lime/lemon, alternating POV, possible Australian-isms.  
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.  
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid). I don't own The Da Vinci Code, either.  
Notes: This story is AU so I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! This fic is based on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_ (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don't own it either. It's a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven't seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas.

Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator, is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled further and further into the life of Wufei's welcoming family. To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall in love with Wufei's enigmatic step-brother, Heero.

**Author's Notes: Yes, it's been a while – I fully admit it. But it's been a difficult time, full of work and exams and family dramas and the death of my poor, most beloved cat (she actually wasn't very nice – the prototype for Duo's cat Attila, but I still miss her). However, that is all over now and I am… wait for it… on holidays! Three and a half glorious months with nothing to do but read and write smut. Yay! (Well, I suppose, technically, I should fit work in there somewhere but… whatever). So, in celebration I bring you the next chapter. Woot!**

**Those of you also following "A Reason For Me" fear not! For I have started the next chapter and will knuckle down soon and finish it. Woot again!**

**Isn't there something else I usually do before I let you get on and read the actual fic? Oh right… the begging. So, yes… review?**

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**While You Were Sleeping**

Chapter Five:

I sink back into Hilde's couch just as a long arm snakes around my shoulder and a cold, damp bottle is pressed into my hand. A drop of condensation trickles down the beer bottle and then down the back of my hand. It soaks into the cuff of my jumper, leaving a dark spot of damp on the faded cotton.

The arm retracts, pausing briefly to ruffle my bangs with playful fingers. It's Alex's way of asking again if I'm alright. I shrug in response and take a swig of my beer. I enjoy the slightly bitter taste on my tongue.

Alex settles back into the couch beside me. The warmth of his thigh resting against mine is infinitely comforting. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't poke or pry – he'll leave that to Hilde – he just sits there in comfortable silence and waits. I love that about him. Two swigs of beer, a heavy sigh and a muffled whimper later and I think I might be ready to off load the latest installment in my ever-growing list of problems.

Hilde ambles into the living room from the kitchen. She now has a streak of what looks like cocoa powder across her left cheek, which is a little puzzling since she's supposed to be baking yams.

Beside me, Alex raises a baffled eyebrow. "I thought you were baking yams," he ventures.

"I am," Hilde replies in that 'nah-duh' voice which is very popular with teenagers. Alex and I both nod because we know better than to try and interfere when Hilde is attempting anything in the kitchen.

She settles her oven mitt-clad hand on her hip and lets her gaze slide from Alex to me. "So Duo-babe, what's with the 'my grandmother just died' face?"

I laugh because it's really the only thing one can do when a woman wearing a _Bewitched_-style apron and a lobster-shaped oven mitt asks you such a question. "I think things might be about to get complicated," I mumble to my beer.

This time it's Hilde who laughs. "I'm fairly sure things are way past complicated and well into inextricable." I attempt a glare; it's a rather half-hearted affair that just bounces off her cheerful exterior. "So what happened?" she asks, settling herself on the coffee table in front of me. She leans one pointed elbow heavily on Alex's knee. I catch his wince but she's too busy trying to read my mind to notice.

I take a deep breath. "OK, well I was at _his_ place…" I begin.

Hilde's eyebrows shoot up. "You went to his place?" she asks, the familiar incredulity back in her voice.

"Whose place?" Alex interjects, his gaze flicking from me to Hilde and back again.

"Wufei's," I answer absent-mindedly.

"And…" Hilde prompts.

"Who's Wufei?" Alex interrupts again before I can continue.

Hilde turns to him, an expression of mild exasperation on her face. "The guy that Duo's been lusting over for about a year. Remember? I told you about him ages ago."

Alex nods slowly and then, "I though you said that was a fantasy going nowhere because the guy didn't even know Duo existed?"

I glare at Hilde and she has the decency to look slightly abashed. "Well, it's true," she says to me. I huff loudly but don't actually say anything because… well, yeah, she has a point.

"I'm officially confused," Alex says to no one in particular.

"OK, here's a brief overview of the plot so far: Duo saved Mr. Fantasy when he fell on to the tracks at work but he ended up in a coma. Then there was a 'mix-up' at the hospital and now his family thinks that Duo is his boyfriend." She pauses. "Oh, and Duo's too much of a coward to tell them the truth. That everything?" she says, turning to me.

"Yep, I think that was all the basic points covered," I mumble, vaguely aware of my face turning pink.

Alex nods once and then nods again. "OK. This is sounding vaguely soap-operatic but please… continue."

"So, I was at Wufei's and… well, the long and the short of it is that I think Wufei has a boyfriend…"

Hilde's first reaction is to laugh. She claps her hand over her mouth a moment later and tries to look contrite; it's somewhat undermined by her continued, barely-muffled giggles.

Eventually she clears her throat. The corner of her mouth threatens to twitch back into a smile but she controls it. "So, what makes you think that your pretend boyfriend has an actual boyfriend?" Her voice cracks on the last word but she hides behind her ridiculous lobster-mitt hand.

"If you're gonna keep laughing at me, I'll take myself off home to lick my wounds in private," I grumble.

Alex casts me a commiserating smile and then gives Hilde a gentle shove. "She'll behave. Why don't you start at the beginning?"

I fold my arms sulkily. "I'm not sure I want to tell you now."

Hilde manages to lose the smirk. "No, please do. I promise I won't laugh any more." Alex and I stare at her. "Well, I'll definitely try anyway."

And so I tell them, in excruciating detail. I repeat the phone messages twice at Hilde's request while she stares at me intently, her eyebrows drawn together. Eventually she sits back.

"OK, so this is what it sounds like," she begins, waving her lobster hand dangerously close to Alex's head. He shrinks back into the couch to avoid it. "Wufei had boyfriend but things were a bit rocky. They planned to meet to talk about it but the boyfriend stood him up. Then Wufei got hit by a train and didn't return the boyfriend's apologetic calls, resulting in the boyfriend getting pissed off and ending it all. Right?"

"Sounds plausible," I say wearily.

"So now the question is… what are you going to do about it?"

"About what?"

She hits me with her lobster. "You know what about." I refuse to meet her eyes. "This guy deserves to know that his boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or whatever is in hospital in a coma."

"I don't know how to contact him. I don't even know his name. All I know is that he has a very sexy voice and probably has long hair." Hilde raises an eyebrow. "Quatre said something about Wufei mentioning guys with long hair," I add.

"And that didn't tip you off that maybe, perhaps there was a guy already on the scene?" Hilde says at the same time as Alex cocks his head and asks, "Who's Quatre?"

Hilde waves him off but I manage an answer. "He's Wufei's ex-boyfriend's current boyfriend and also best friend to Wufei and his step-brother Heero."

Alex blinks. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Well, then tell this ex-boyfriend's current boyfriend's dog's former owner's half-brother or whatever. Tell someone!"

"But they don't even know about this guy. It can't have been all that serious if Wufei didn't even tell his family. I mean, they're really close. Plus, it sounds like it's all over now anyway…"

"Duo!"

"I know, I know," I crumple suddenly. Alex slides his arm back around my shoulders, bracing me with his support. "But I can't tell them… I can't…"

Hilde gives me a stern look. It's the look I usually receive right before a lecture. "You just need to suck it up and tackle your problems head on."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," I mutter and Alex laughs. He swallows his grin when Hilde glares at him.

"I'm being serious. You have to tell them the truth. Face your issues and deal with them."

"I'm seeing pots and kettles," I retort, setting my now empty beer bottle down on the coffee table beside Hilde's thigh.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I should face my issues and deal with them? This from the woman who said, just yesterday, that she would rather move to Antarctica than meet her potential mother-in-law. How is that facing up to your issues?"

"We're talking about _your _issues not mine. Besides, that's a completely different situation." She says, suddenly flustered.

"How?" I challenge.

"Mothers-in-law are inherently evil." She slaps her thigh with her lobster mitt for emphasis.

"I sincerely hope you're not going to say that to my mother's face when you meet her in a few days time," Alex interjects mildly.

"Why shouldn't I? It's true!" Hilde says before she can stop herself.

"Hey, that's my mother you're talking about. Just because she's narrow-minded and elitist and votes Republican doesn't make her evil."

Hilde and I stare at him blankly. "I'm not sure you're helping your case, there," I venture.

There is a long pause and then suddenly we're all laughing; it's slightly hysterical but the tension in the room is immediately diffused.

Eventually Alex wipes his eyes on Hilde's apron. "Why don't we all pretend we don't have any issues and watch TV instead?"

"I think The Amazing Race is on," I add helpfully.

"Oooh, good. I'll get the yams." Hilde totters away, waving her lobster hand. "I hope that horrible, whiny couple go," she calls from the kitchen. "They argue, like, all the time and she never shuts up."

Alex and I manage to exchange a look before she returns, tray of yams and three forks in hand. She squeezes herself onto the couch between me and Alex. It's a snug but comfortable fit.

I spear a cube of yam with the offered fork and Alex flicks the TV on. "I love you guys," I'm compelled to say halfway through my mouthful.

Hilde smiles at me. "Aw, we love you too. Now, shhhhh." She points at the TV. "It's starting."

And oddly enough, I suddenly feel so much better.

* * *

I end up staying the night on Hilde and Alex's couch, something I regret in the morning when I wake up feeling like my neck has been tied in a knot. Hilde kneads my sore muscles with her knuckles at the breakfast table. She gives the best massages but I'm sure Alex would know more about that than me. He gives me a lop-sided grin from across the table as though he's read my mind. 

"We're leaving for Vermont on Thursday," Hilde says out-of-the-blue, mid way through spooning porridge into her bowl. "But we'll be back the following Monday. It's only five days. I mean, I can handle that. It's just five days. That's all. And, I mean, it's not like your mother is actually evil, right? It's just my over-active paranoid imagination. She's not really evil, is she?"

"No," Alex says calmly. He catches my eye. "Well, maybe semi-evil."

"Alex!" Hilde drops the spoon back into the pot. It lands with a clatter, splattering specks of porridge across the tabletop.

"Just joking. Not evil at all," Alex hastily reconsiders.

Hilde huffs. "Of course she's not. It'll be fine. We'll have a great time. Best Christmas ever. Oh God. It's not too late to go to Hawaii, you know. I mean, it'd be easy to change the tickets, I'm sure and…"

"Hilde, baby, calm down. You'll be fine. My mother's looking forward to meeting you… kind of, and I'm sure… well, I'm sure she'll mostly keep what she's thinking to herself."

I wonder vaguely if that supposed to be comforting. Hilde glares at him. Alex turns to me, imploring. "Yeah, Alex is right," I cut in. "It'll be fine. It can't be any worse than the mess I'm in, right?"

Hilde considers this. "True. You'll water my plant while we're gone, won't you?"

I glance at the fern in the corner that has been looking rather sickly for some time now. "It's only five days and… I'm pretty sure your plant is already dead."

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Hilde glares at me. "It's not dead! It's just… ill. I have full confidence that I can save it."

"OK, I'll water your plant," I say in my best placating voice.

"Good." Hilde pauses to lick the back of her spoon. "Hey, I was thinking we should audition for the Amazing Race next season," she says a moment later. I'm not sure whether she's talking to me or Alex. We exchange a look, both of us clearly hoping that was intended for the other.

"Have some more porridge, baby," Alex says hurriedly when she opens her mouth again.

"Yeah, better eat up. Looks cold outside. You know, I think it might snow again," I say a fraction of a second later.

Hilde raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed at our clumsy attempt at a change of subject. But she must be feeling generous this morning as she merely rolls her eyes and allows us to mollify her with porridge and the weather forecast.

Hilde and I are both late to work, a fact that probably makes Marge's day. She sneers at me from her booth at regular intervals throughout the morning. Unfortunately for her, I'm to busy freezing my arse off to be offended.

The day gets progressively colder until finally, around mid-afternoon, the snow starts falling with a vengeance. It's not the nice powder white, Christmas card kind of snow, but the hard, heavy, icy kind that lowers the air temperature in seconds and cuts through four layers of clothing like a hot knife through butter.

Within a couple of hours the city is blanketed in a layer of dirty greyness. When the snow finally decides to take a rest break, the wind picks up, howling like a lone wolf on a mountain range and whipping through the streets at a rate of knots.

Trapped in my little glass booth, I turn my radio up until it drowns out the sound of my teeth chattering. When Marge glares in my direction and yells at me to turn the racket down, I give her the universal sign for 'I can't hear you, you stupid fat bitch' and go back to ignoring her.

I've lost all sensation in my arse, hands and feet by the time my shift ends. Hilde rubs my hands between hers as she walks me to the bus stop. "Why don't you come home with me for dinner? I promise I won't cook." She lifts my hands to her mouth, blowing hot air on my frozen fingers. A slight tingling sensation develops in my finger-tips. I'm not sure if that's an indication of frost-bite or not.

"I got… stuff to do," I mumble to the sludge-covered pavement.

She rolls her eyes and hugs me. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says, wrapping her scarf around my neck. "Promise me you'll catch a cab home if it starts snowing that heavy again."

"Are you crazy? That'd cost a fortune. I'd rather have the frost-bite, thanks."

She glares. "Promise me." She's using a tone of voice that brooks no opposition. She reminds me of Sister Helen when she gets like this.

I crack a smile. "Alright, alright. Bossy-boots. You'll make a formidable mother-in-law one day."

She just huffs, ignores my warning and bundles me onto the bus with a last kiss. I sit at the back, looking out the back-window until I can't see her little yellow-jacketed figure any more.

When I arrive at the hospital, Wufei's room is empty save for Nurse Jones, who is bustling around checking machines and drips and generally being very nurse-like. "Hello, Duo," she says in that slightly un-nerving way of hers. "You've just missed Sally. Nipped downstairs for a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Of course, I told her that she'd be better off popping across the road to that nice little café but she wanted to stay close, which I can understand."

I remove my coat and Hilde's scarf, draping them over the back of the nearest chair. Behind me, Nurse Jones continues to bustle around, chattering about god-knows-what.

"You should try talking to him," she says a moment later, leaning over my shoulder. I can smell her clean, baby-powder scent, mingled with the general disinfectant smell that permeates the hospital. "Sally's been reading to him all afternoon. Nearly made her voice hoarse. Still, they say that coma patients can respond to the sound of a loved one's voice."

I sigh. I didn't know that a sigh could sound so bitter. Nurse Jones seems to get whatever hint it is I'm trying to give her, patting my shoulder gently before backing out of the room.

I reach out tentatively for Wufei's hand. His fingers are limp and still beneath mine. "Hey." My voice is croaky, hanging heavy and unanswered in the air. I try again. "How are you?" is the first thing that comes out. I wince. "Um… I mean… er… God, I feel like an idiot. I miss you, yanno? That probably sounds stupid, but I do…" I twine our fingers together, shuffling my chair closer.

"So yeah, I hope you wake up soon." I wince again, wondering if I could possibly sound any more inarticulate. "And, just for the record… I'm sorry about all this. I didn't mean for it to go this far and… yeah." Trailing off awkwardly, I rest my forehead against the softness of Wufei's mattress, eyes closed and concentrating on the feel of Wufei's steady pulse beneath my fingers.

When I look up, Trowa is sitting on the other side of the bed, watching me through calm, green eyes. I didn't even hear him come in. I flush and disentangle my fingers from Wufei's.

"Evening, Duo," Trowa says in his low rumbling voice. His eyes are very intense. I can feel them looking right through me.

"You just missed Sally." I fiddle nervously with the end of my braid. "The nurse said she went for coffee."

"I know. I ran into her on my way up." His forehead creases in a gentle frown. "She seemed… tired," he concludes.

"Well, thanks. That's what every girl wants to hear," Sally says from the doorway. She folds herself wearily into the chair beside mine, clutching a now-empty polystyrene cup. Trowa's right, she does look tired, worn even.

"I just meant you look like you could do with a decent night's sleep." Trowa's voice is laced with concern.

"No, you meant I look like crap." She pushes a hand through her hair, sighing a heavy, exhausted sigh.

"You said it, not me." That succeeds in drawing a laugh from Sally. "Quatre sent me to make sure you weren't worrying yourself into a state. Why don't you let me take you home?"

"I should stay, I…"

"There's nothing you can do, Sal," Trowa says gently, rising from his chair. She stares intently at the hem of Wufei's blanket. "Duo will stay with Wufei a bit longer, won't you?" I nod, and the corner of Sally's mouth quirks upward a little. "Please, Sally. Wufei would be the first person to send you home if he could see you like this."

Trowa reaches out to brush a loose strand of hair from Sally's forehead. She sags, leaning into the touch. "Come on," he coaxes her and she allows herself to be maneuvered out of the chair.

She reaches back and grasps my hand for a moment. "Thank you for being here." She says, her eyes shining. "You can read to him if you want." She hands me a thick paperback. I turn it over in my hands. The Da Vinci Code. "We're up to page 198. Give my love to Heero if he comes by?"

I nod, feeling an uncomfortable pressure in my chest. "Of course."

She smiles her thanks, a weak, weary smile. Trowa merely nods to me, fixing me with a rather enigmatic look. I'm still puzzling it out long after they've left. I sigh and shake my head. Before me, Wufei's chest rises and falls, slow and steady. I reach for Sally's book and open it to the right page.

"Chapter 32," I begin. "The security alarm on the west end of the Denon Wing sent the pigeons in the nearby Tuileries Gardens scattering as Langdon and Sophie dashed out of the bulkhead into the Paris night." I settle into my chair and continue.

* * *

I've been reading for about half an hour when Heero arrives. I pause mid-sentence, my head turning to meet Heero's gaze. He smiles at me from the doorway. 

"The Da Vinci Code?" he asks, sliding into the chair that Sally had vacated.

"It was Sally's idea; she was reading to him earlier." I sound hoarse and croaky, my throat dry and cracked.

Heero smiles a secret little smile. He taps the book cover with one lean, golden fingertip. "Wufei always refused to read it. Said it was popular rubbish." I laugh and am rewarded with a tentative grin. "He'll be ticked off if it ends up getting stuck in his subconscious." The 'if he wakes up' hangs oppressive and unspoken between us.

I mark the corner of the page and set the book back down on Wufei's bedside table. A cloak of awkward silence descends on the room, broken only by the steady, rhythmic beeping of Wufei's monitors.

"Sally sends her love by the way." My gravelly voice cuts swiftly through the silence before descending into a spluttered cough.

Heero gets up gently, disappearing momentarily from my eye-line. When he returns, he presses a paper cup into my hands. His fingers brush against mine, those light calluses grazing against my skin. The water glides down my throat, cool liquid relief. I murmur grateful thanks, my lips still fixed to the rim of the cup, soaking up the last drops.

"You're welcome," Heero replies.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He seems vaguely nervous, his hands fiddling with the tasseled ends on his brightly-coloured scarf. I wonder why, if it's me making him nervous. There is a fluttering in my stomach and I wonder if he's making me nervous.

"Are you a religious man, Duo?" he asks, turning suddenly and fixing me with that piercing blue gaze.

"What?" I'm confused and I can't quite work out if it's the question or those eyes.

"I asked if you're a religious – "

"I heard."

"Oh."

A puzzled sort of silence falls in which I stare at the neatly folded corner of Wufei's bed and Heero's fingers start worrying the end of his scarf again. Slowly, tentatively Heero reaches out to me. I watch as his golden fingers come closer and closer. His fingertips brush against the sensitive strip of skin where my neck meets my collarbone.

He pauses, meeting my gaze. I fancy the tips of his cheeks are the faintest shade of pink. I'm sure mine are tinted a vivid red. We stay like that for what feels like hours. Eventually his hand retracts, my tiny silver cross caught between his fingers.

"I just thought…" He starts and then breaks off, pulling his hand away like he's been burned. My cross drops back, nestling against my collar. "I've been wondering if you were religious for ages. I'm not at all but I think I like the idea of someone praying for him. Hedging our bets, so to speak… just in case there is a God."

I finger the cross myself, running my finger across the familiar silver surface. The metal is slightly warm from where Heero's fingers burned into it. "Not a bad strategy but I'm afraid I'm not your man, there. I haven't been a practicing Catholic for years." I drop my hand back to my lap, my fingers picking at a loose thread from the rip in my jeans. "I'm not sure I ever really believed in the first place," I confess, so faintly that I'm sure Heero can't have heard me.

"Then why do you wear this?" Heero's voice matches mine in pitch. His hand reaches out toward me again. He jerks it away just before it makes contact.

"Sentimental reasons, not religious ones," I answer quietly.

"Tell me?"

"Nah, you don't wanna hear all that."

"Tell me anyway?"

I turn and find myself staring to that startling blue again. "OK," I say before I can remember all the reasons not to. "I grew up in a Catholic orphanage," I begin, wondering if Heero can hear that nervous waver in my voice. "I wanted so desperately to believe like everyone else did, to belong. But I was one of those really… inquisitive kids. Always asking questions that didn't have answers. Father Maxwell used to tell me to have faith in God's plan but I… I just couldn't see it. I couldn't understand how there could possibly be a God when there was so much… so many terrible things happening in the world.

"I probably drove Father Maxwell up the wall. We argued all the time but he never gave up on me, you know? He was one of the few people who really cared about me back then; fought so hard to keep me on the straight and narrow, to get me through school. He died three weeks before my high school graduation. I guess that's when I finally gave up trying to believe…" I trail off and that's when I realise I'm gently fingering my cross again.

"He gave me this on my thirteenth birthday. We didn't normally do birthday and Christmas present at the orphanage 'cause there was never enough money but he said he wanted me to have it. I guess I wear it to remember him or to honour him or something… like, I never had faith in God but I still have faith in him."

"Sounds like he was a father in more ways than one." Heero's voice is soft and unobtrusive.

I find myself smiling. "Yeah."

We lapse into silence. I can feel Heero's warmth beside me. His arm is a mere inch away from mine. I shift slightly so that there contact. He starts and doesn't meet my gaze. But he's smiling too.

It's snowing again by the time Nurse Jones returns to tell us that visiting hours are over. It's not the thick, heavy snow from earlier but enough to chill the air. I shiver as we make our way down the driveway, snowflakes settling in my hair.

"Would you like a lift?" Heero asks suddenly, his breath coming in puffs of white smoke.

"Nah, it's fine. The bus-stop's not far." I wave him off.

"It's freezing, Duo. I'll give you a lift." Heero's mouth is set in a stubborn line.

"No, no… OK." I cave easily and Heero laughs.

"Come on, the car's this way. Where do you live?"

Heero owns one of those ultra modern sedans. The sort that has a button to do pretty much everything bar the ironing. "Nice," I say, wishing I didn't sound so impressed.

"It's a company car," Heero confesses, opening my door for me.

I sink back into the plush leather seats. When he starts the ignition, a rush of heat come blasting out of the vents. I positively purr in pleasure. "You must be pretty important for them to give you a swanky car like this," I say as we pull out of the hospital car park.

"Not really. I'm just an accountant. Hardly very exciting."

"Oh nah, I'm sure it's…" I struggle for the word.

"Boring as all Hell?" Heero finishes for me.

I laugh. "At least you don't spend all day in a glass box giving tokens to grumpy people who wish they had cars like this."

I'm rewarded with a warm chuckle. "At least you don't spend all day kowtowing to people with more money than sense," he counters.

"Then why do you do it?"

He seems momentarily floored by my question. "I guess… I don't know, really." He hesitates, casting me a sideways glance. "Wufei's father was an accountant. I think he always secretly hoped that Wufei would follow in his footsteps but it was clear from an early age that Wufei was born to be a lawyer."

He pauses again as he turns the corner. "It always meant so much to me that Zao treated me like his own; I was honoured that he thought of me as a son. I suppose I wanted to acknowledge that. And I was always good at numbers. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And now?" I prompt.

"And now I wish I'd chosen something that I really wanted to do rather than something I happened to be good at." Heero's confession is low and soft.

"And what is the something you really wanted to do?"

"It's stupid," is Heero's gruff response.

"Tell me anyway?" I echo Heero's earlier request and he casts me a sharp sideways glance just as the car comes to a gentle stop at the traffic lights.

"I've always… dreamed, I guess, of being a carpenter. Designing and making my own furniture. Maybe owning my own business."

"That's explains it then," I interject.

He looks at me, blue eyes tinged red from the traffic lights. "Explains what?"

I take his hand in mine, watching as his long fingers uncurl from around the steering wheel. I brush my fingers against his, gliding across the calluses there. "You have calluses on your hands," I say softly.

He stares at me. "Oh." There a long moment of silence, broken only when the car behind us beeps its horn. "Anyway, it's stupid," Heero mutters, accelerating.

"No, it's not," I say, more impassioned than I'd intended. I clear my throat awkwardly. "Why carpentry?"

"Because it was something I was never naturally good at."

I laugh. "Tell me?"

"At school, I was good at everything... maths, science, English, sport… and I hated it all. And then I took wood-work as an elective and was spectacularly dreadful at it." He laughs at the memory and I'm mesmerized by the rumbling sound. "I stayed back every afternoon, working at it, determined that I would beat it. And I guess… somewhere along the line I fell in love with it."

"So why don't you just quit your job?" The answer just seems so very simple to me.

"Are you kidding?" he asks as the car glides around another corner. "And give up the security of my current job for some… stupid dream?"

"Why not?"

"Would you give up yours?" he counters, taking his eyes briefly off the road to glance at me.

"No, but… that's different. I need the money and… there's nothing else I can do. No one else would hire me. But you… you could do it… live the dream." I don't know why I'm suddenly so passionate about this. It's ridiculous but I can't stop.

"Maybe one day," he says in a defeated tone and I know instinctively that this is the best I'm going to get.

"I'll make a deal with you. When I finally find the balls to quit my job, I'll call you and you'll do the same."

He stares at me before flicking back to the road. "You're crazy," he says, shaking his head. But when the car stops at the next set of lights he turns back to me. "Deal."

We grin in unison and travel the rest of the distance in comfortable silence. When he drops me off, I stand in the snow for several long minutes until red glow of Heero's tail-lights are no longer visible in the distance. I turn reluctantly, plodding up the stairs to pour myself into bed.

* * *

I'm dreaming; one of those deliciously conscious dreams that almost feel like they're real. I've dreamed this dream many times before; it visits me like an old friend, dancing through my sub-conscious, tempting me to fall into it. 

I'm in Venice and it's summer. The hot Italian sun beats down on me, warming my face, seeping into my very skin. A gentle breeze drifts across my skin, ruffling my bangs like invisible fingers.

I'm in a gondola and it's rocking gently in a soft, soothing motion. The sunlight sparkles on the water, glittering on the horizon line. A delightfully Mediterranean vista stretches out before me, dreamy and impossibly romantic.

Warm arms embrace me from behind and soft lips press a kiss just behind my ear. Fingers drift across my stomach, dipping beneath my t-shirt and dancing across my skin. I laugh and Wufei tightens his embrace, pulling me flush against him. Kisses trail down my neck and across my shoulder.

I turn in his embrace to face him. The gondola shifts with my motion, knocking me forwards into his arms. He laughs, the deep low laugh that I've only heard on a couple of occasions. That dazzlingly charming smile momentarily floors me; my stomach flips and my heart pounds.

Deep brown eyes gaze at me, twinkling with something I can't identify. Wufei wraps his hand around my braid and pulls me closer until his lips are almost against mine. His breath ghosts across my skin. I close the distance between us and the kiss is hot and heavy, all lips and teeth and tongue.

I pull away, breathless and laughing, and suddenly it's piercing blue eyes that are staring back at me, drawing me back into their intense, endless depths. Heero's mouth quirks into a tiny secret smile.

With a sharp, sudden jerk, I wake up alone in my bed at home. My hands are trembling against the faded green doona-cover and my skin is damp with sweat. My stomach flips again and my heart is pounding so fast it feels like it's going to leap out of my chest.

I flop back against the pillows, hopelessly confused and unbearably aroused. When I close my eyes again, all I can see is blue.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Right, now that we've got that pesky fic business out of the way, I'd like to pause for a spot of pimpage. A while ago I wrote a long pornish one-shot that I posted on the 1X2ML and was blown away by the response – I couldn't post it on ff. netdue to naughty, porny content.  
Anyway, the point is, I have now put it up on MediaMiner for everyone to read. So please do. It's called "Ride A Cowboy" and can be found here:**

**www. mediaminer. org/fanfic/view ch.php/110669/375601 - you'll need to take out the spaces and put an underscore in between view and ch. - stupid ff. net.  
It's also on adultfanfiction .net under Prynesque. Please let me know what you think. **

**Right, now I'm hankering for some thankering. I know it's been a long time but I want to give a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Your comments really kept me going – such inspiration. Gosh, I'm getting all teary tears up I've newly discovered that I can reply to signed reviews through (God knows how long that function's been available – I'm not especially technologically savvy), so I've been sending off replies left, right and centre. I hope you guys don't mind.**

**Anyway, thanks also to the following reviewers who I couldn't replied to through ff. net:Whit, **Ari**, --dash--, **Patty 40**, F-chan1, **castalvia**, muchacha, **camillian**, Emperessrose  
****Indentured: **Wow, I mean, wow! What a truly flattering review – you can most definitely review again should the mood take you... swoons... I am enamoured with you! If and when your grammar-infatuated mind picks up my grammatical errors, please point them out so I can fix them (I need all the help I can get). Oh, and re: the "mysterious lover" – well, everyone seems to think it's Zechs… I guess I'm just that predictable. Anyway, in answer to all your 'what?' questions: I'm afraid I can't tell you; you'll just have to wait and see. Thanks muchly for reviewing... swoons again...  
**Gwydi: **I can't remember if I replied to your review (shame on me if I didn't) or not but let's assume I didn't and I will now. OMG! Squee! (slight delayed reaction) I am so thrilled you read "Ride A Cowboy" and liked it. I'm even working up to another lemon (maybe). And thank you so much (more squeeing) for the sketch, I can't believe someone actually went to the trouble of creating something based on my writings. Squee! I wish I had the talent or inclination to draw – but perhaps I'm better off leaving it to the experts. Thanks again, really… I'm honoured.

**Thanks again to everyone and if you feel compelled to review again, well please don't let me stop you grin**


	6. Chapter Six

Title: While You Were Sleeping  
Author: Prynesque  
Genre: Yaoi/slash, romance, sap?  
Pairing: 1x2  
Rated: R  
Warnings: OOC (this is an AU – I think it's a given), some swearing, lime/lemon, POV, possible Australian-isms.  
Feedback: Hell yeah? What I'm trying to say is that if you feel the urge to review, please indulge it. I don't even care what you say. Good, bad, it's all the same to me – just so long as I get to hear from you.  
Disclaimer: Duo, Heero, Gundam Wing… they are copywrited to someone else. They are being used without permission and no money is being made. I reiterate: they aren't mine (and if you think they are you should probably take this opportunity to get your head checked). However, this story is mine and mine alone, and if you so much as think of nicking any part of it, I'll hunt you down and set my demon kitty cat on you (be afraid, be very afraid).  
Notes: This story is AU so I think it's safe to say that that means there will be no mentions of Gundams, colonies or any other various fantastical science fiction-related entities. This story is also slash (or yaoi or whatever you want to call it), so if you don't like that… well, bugger off and come back when you have some taste! This fic is based on the movie _While You Were Sleeping_ (starring Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman) and I don't own it either. It's a fairly loose basis – namely because I haven't seen the movie for years – and there will be movie plot mixed with my own kooky ideas.

Summary: Duo, a lonely railway ticket booth operator, is infatuated with Wufei, a complete stranger, who buys a token from his booth each evening. One night, Wufei is knocked onto the tracks and winds up in a coma. A mistake at the hospital sees Duo mistaken for his boyfriend and a tangled web of lies is woven as Duo is pulled further and further into the life of Wufei's welcoming family. To make matters worse, Duo discovers that he is beginning to fall in love with Wufei's enigmatic step-brother, Heero.

**Author's Notes: Yes, yes, I know it's been forever but… oh, I'm sure you can make up a bunch of plausible excuses on my behalf (something along the lines of 'flying aid packages to remote areas of Africa' or 'single handedly developing a cure for cancer' would be nice). **

**Anyway, the next chapter is here now, so without much further ado (I'm simply too tired to bother with my usual waffling), I present to you… chapter six. Enjoy, and when you've done that, review – the two go hand in hand together, you know.**

* * *

**While You Were Sleeping**

Chapter Six:

"You look like crap," is the first thing Hilde says to me when she walks through the door of the staff kitchenette. She cocks her head to the side and then consults her watch. "And you're on time," she says, slowly closing the distance between us. When she is less than a foot away, she presses her right hand to my forehead. "Are you sick?"

I manage a weak laugh. "I'm fine."

She nods. "OK, I was just checking." There is a pause and then, "You really do look like crap." She dodges the tea towel I throw at her and then fixes me with a strangely serious look. I can feel her trying to read my mind, digging for the truth she knows I'm hiding.

It would be so easy to give in to her gentle prying; to tell her about The Dream, as I've started referring to it in my mind in true mountains-out-of-molehills style. But I can't because if I do, it'll mean finally admitting that The Dream was real, that it happened. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Besides, the weather here in Egypt is lovely.

I muster up a faint smile and whatever's left of my strength. "Really, I'm fine."

The lie burns acidic on my lips, leaving a lump of guilt lodged in my throat. This lie twists my stomach worse than all the other lies I've told this week because it's Hilde… my darling Hilde who has been my constant for so many years, who has heard all of my darkest secrets and wildest desires.

The truth hovers on my lips… the eyes, so deep and so blue, that burned into me, through me, so vividly that I woke up gasping and hard; the pained, torturous minutes of resistance that I endured before I finally gave in and touched myself; the long, sticky hours I spent desperately trying to avoid falling back into that tempting, blue oblivion; the cold shower that rained down on me just as dawn broke, hard to the point of punishment, and finally, blessedly washed away my dreamtime vision with so much freezing water and determination.

And I want to tell her, so badly I want to tell her. I want to hear the words of comfort I know she'll give. I want to hear her tell me that I'm being stupid, a drama-queen as usual. But mostly I want her to tell me that The Dream didn't mean anything.

Hilde just stares at me and I know that she doesn't buy my lie for even a second. She's known me too long and too well to be fooled by my standard bullshit. All she has to do is give me the faintest of wounded looks and I cave.

"I had a dream," I mumble into my scarf, worrying at a crack in the plastic counter-top with my fingernail.

She presses a mug of coffee into my hand and stares at me, waiting for me to continue. I don't and she raises a questioning eyebrow. "And that's it? You had a dream?" I nod. "Well, unless an angel of God came to you in this dream, prophesizing a coming apocalypse of some kind, then I'd say you were blowing things a little outta proportion." She pats my shoulder in an infinitely comforting manner. "Now, are you going to tell me what all the fuss is about or am I going to have to start making wild, ridiculous guesses?"

"It was…" I begin and then trail off because I'm not sure I want to hear what Hilde would say if I finished that with 'an impossibly arousing dream about my pretend boyfriend's brother that I just had to wank over because it felt like I'd die if I didn't.'

I clear my throat and try again. "It was confusing and… disturbing and…" I trail off again, looking down at her miserably.

"Well, gee, don't overwhelm me with the details!" she says with a laugh. I cast an unimpressed look in her direction and she attempts to look contrite.

"Look, Duo, babe," she says, maneuvering me into the nearest chair and sitting on my lap. "We all have dreams, most of them confusing, many of them disturbing, and you know what? They don't mean shit. Like that reoccurring dream I have where I'm juggling kittens naked on the Conan O'Brian Show. It doesn't mean anything except that I have an overactive imagination and way too much free time on my hands."

We share a look and then a laugh. "The Conan O'Brian show?" I inquire.

"Don't ask," she mutters and wisely, I don't.

We descend into silence, the quiet only broken by the sound of Hilde slurping as she drinks my coffee. I wrestle the mug back from her.

"OK, hypothetical dilemma: what if… what if you were about to get married to Alex and…" I begin.

"Oh my God, has Alex said something to you about proposing?" Hilde interrupts breathlessly.

I pause, thrown. "No."

"Oh," she sounds vaguely disappointed. "Sorry, go on. No, wait! If, you know, Alex did happen to mention marriage or anything, you know… you could totally tell him that I'd be up for that… you know." I blink. "Right, sorry, back to the hypothetical dilemma."

"OK, well say you were about to get married to Alex and you had this dream where… um… you're walking down the aisle but when you get to altar I'm the groom instead of Alex…"

"Oh my God, you haven't gone straight and fallen in love with me, have you?" Hilde interrupts again.

I roll my eyes. "No."

She grins. "Oh, good… 'cause that coulda been sooooo awkward."

I ignore her. "Focus, Hilde. Just say you had that dream… what would you think?"

"I wouldn't think anything. I dream about you all the time. You're my best friend and I love you to pieces. I spend probably seventy percent of my time with you. Of course I'm going to dream about you. Doesn't mean it means anything."

I bite my bottom lip. Well, when she says it like that, she's clearly right and I'm clearly a paranoid moron.

"Right. So if I had a dream about someone that I probably shouldn't have had a dream about but that I'd been spending some time with and getting to know and stuff… and the dream was, you know, a romantic dream… it wouldn't necessarily mean that I was in love with them or anything… right? Hypothetically."

Hilde stares at me, both eyebrows raise again as I stumble through my question and then, "You haven't been dreaming about Alex, have you?"

I laugh. "No. Not Alex. God, no way."

"OK, good. 'Cause again… awkward… hey, what's wrong with Alex?"

"Nothing, Alex is great. Nice, sweet, funny, caring, good-looking… infinitely dreamable. Just, you know, red-heads don't do it for me."

"Oh, OK. Sorry, what was your question again?"

I frown irritably. "Say I had a vaguely romantic dream about someone… it wouldn't necessarily mean that I was in love with them, would it?" I repeat hurriedly, aware of Marge waddling down the corridor towards the kitchenette.

"Oh God no." Hilde waves her hand in a very cavalier way. "I have romantic dreams about people other than Alex all the time. It doesn't mean that I don't love him or that I'm about to run away with Darren from 'Bewitched'…"

"The first Darren or the second one?"

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, those dreams are just that… dreams, meaningless if very sexy, nose-wiggling dreams. Whatever happened in your dream doesn't have to mean anything," she concludes with a confident nod.

And that's all I need to hear. I feel a great weight suddenly lift from around my heart. "I love you," I whisper fiercely, pulling her into a tight hug.

When we pull apart, Hilde eyes twinkling mischievously. "So, who are you dreaming about?" she asks slyly.

Marge finally arrives at the kitchenette door, puffing slightly. She commandeers the coffee pot, glaring over her shoulder at me and Hilde. "You two should stop canoodling!" she says huffily. "Your shift started ten minutes ago." Her beady little eyes bore into us.

Hilde and I share a look, grab our coffees and exit. "It's not Marge, is it?" Hilde whispers loudly as we scurry away down the corridor.

I throw her a sickened look in response. And then all that's left lingering in the corridor is our laughter.

* * *

I don't go to the hospital when my shift ends. It's not that I'm afraid of running into Heero again, I tell myself sternly, it's just that I have other things to do, important things, and besides I don't have to spend every single minute I can with Wufei to know that I'm in love with him.

By the time I'm getting off at the right bus-stop, I almost have myself convinced. Almost.

Wufei's stately, elegant apartment building stares back at me. This time I mount the stairs with slightly more authority than I did the first time around, though I still feel ridiculously out of place.

After all, I remind myself, I'm not here because I'm some sort of stalker freak, but merely because I have a responsibility to make sure that his cat doesn't starve. That one also takes some serious mental repetition before it starts to sound even vaguely convincing.

The sound of Natuku's jangling bell greets me as I push the door open. She regards me with blue eyes for a long moment before lowering her head to sniff dispassionately at my left boot. When she looks back up at me, she gives a plaintive little meow that sounds depressingly like a sob.

She winds herself around my legs and then allows me to scoop her up into my arms with only merest wriggle of resistance.

"Yeah, I know," I mumble, rubbing my cheek against her satiny-soft fur. "You miss him." She twitches her nose and then licks her paw, still regarding me with glassy blue eyes.

"I miss him, too," I confess as quietly as possible. She answers with another miserable yowl and then butts my chin with the top of her head. I manage a smile. "He'll be home soon, I promise," I whisper, hugging the warm bundle of white fur closer to my chest. She growls in warning and I laugh. "Alright, alright, enough touchy-feely. How about dinner instead?" She butts my chin again and I take that as a yes.

Natuku manages to consume the grey, tinned mush I dollop into her bowl in approximately 30 seconds flat. When she's done, she glances up at me with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"Don't even think about it. You've had plenty," I tell her sternly. She twitches her nose and stalks away to the other end of the kitchen bench to vigorously wash her tail. I bow out gracefully, sensing the dismissal in that typically feline gesture.

The first thing that catches my eye when I enter the living room, it that last photo in the series, easily the most arresting of the lot. Those three familiar faces, all frozen in varying degrees of laughter, seem almost other-worldly in their monochromatic two-dimensionality.

I look at each face in turn, peering so close that my breath is visible on the glass. Sally looks much younger than she does when I see her at the hospital. There is no semi-permanent tension in her shoulders, and no pinched lines around her mouth.

I force myself to look at Heero next, at the hidden half-smile he's wearing and the twinkle in his eyes that betray none of the impassiveness I've seen in him, none of the hesitant tightness in the way he moves.

In this photo, they are like two completely different people to the Heero and Sally I've met. And the difference, of course, is Wufei… lying cold and still in a hospital bed in reality, but alive and vibrant in this captured sliver of time.

And finally I turn my gaze to him, to Wufei, my perfect strange with his incredibly black, bottomless eyes and razor-sharp cheekbones. Once again, here we are, separated by a thin pane of glass; for a moment I almost expect Wufei to blink, to smile and nod and wish me a goodnight like he used to do before disappearing down onto the subway platform.

He doesn't, of course, but my universe glides back into alignment anyway. I trail one gloved finger down the glass, following the line of Wufei's cheek, and smile.

"Stay out of my dreams, Heero," I tell his black-and-white visage, suddenly feeling very calm and relieved. "Wufei's the one who belongs in my gondola."

There is just empty silence from the apartment and I shake my head at my own stupidity. Natuku barely looks up when I quietly sneak back out of the apartment.

* * *

Hilde sniffles into my shoulder as we wait at the check-in counter. Alex rolls his eyes. "Honestly, you'd think I was taking her to her death, not to meet my mother," he mutters to me over her head.

"I heard that," Hilde's voice says from the depths of my woolen scarf.

"Alex is right, Hilde, there is a distinct mountains outta molehills feel about all this," I tell her, shrugging my shoulder in an attempt to dislodge her.

She glares at me and then at Alex and then at the check-in lady just for good measure. "I think you're all being highly unsupportive. This whole meeting-the-parents thing has the potential to be a complete disaster. I saw the movie, you know."

"I think I can safely promise you that my mother is not Robert de Niro," Alex says as their bags disappear down the automated conveyer belt. The check-in lady waves us away with a nervous smile.

"That's not the point," Hilde huffs.

"You'll be fine," I tell her when we arrive at the departure gate.

She clings to me in a sudden desperate fashion. "I'll miss you," she says fiercely.

"It's only a few days," I say but I can feel my own eyes getting embarrassingly bright. I return the frantic hug. "You'll call me when you get there, won't you? And on Christmas?" I ask, blinking fiercely and trying to sound as nonchalantly manly as I can.

She hugs me again. "Of course! You will be alright, won't you?" She pulls back, searching my face.

I barely have a chance to nod before Hilde whirls away and hits Alex up the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" he asks, smoothing his hair back down.

"How could you even think about taking me away from Duo on Christmas?" is the fiery answer.

I grab Hilde's hands. "I'll be fine. You'll be fine. We'll all be fine."

"I won't be if my girlfriend keeps hitting me," Alex grumbles.

Hilde and I both ignore him. "But we always have Christmas together," she wibbles.

"Everybody needs a change once in a while. Plus this way, I won't have to fight you for the TV remote." She laughs and we hug again, both sniffling in a rather pathetic manner.

I wipe my nose on my sleeve and turn to Alex. He pulls me into a rough one-armed hug. "Take care of yourself," he tells me.

I nod. "Take care of her," I say, gesturing to Hilde who has been distracted by the fluffy headphones a nearby air-hostess is handing out. Alex returns the nod and smiles an adorably goofy at Hilde, now engaged in an argument with said nearby air-hostess over how many earphones she's allowed to have.

"You really love her, don't you?" I ask, even though Alex is clearly so love-struck I'm surprised he still standing upright.

He stares at me. "Of course I do. She's Hilde. How could I not love her?"

I feel a flashing stab of jealousy before I tell myself to stop being stupid and grin instead. "Just checking." He starts to move away and I grab him by the back of the coat, pulling him close. "You know, just for the record, Hilde looks really good in white," I whisper conspiratorially.

Alex gives me a blank look. "I'm not following."

"I just mean, you know…" I look significantly down at my left ring finger and then back across at Hilde.

"OK, either you've gone mad or I've gone mad. Based on previous history, I'd say it was you."

I roll my eyes. "OK, never mind. I was trying to be subtle. We'll talk about this when you get back."

"Talk about what?" Hilde asks, triumphantly holding up two sets of earphones and casting a smug look over her shoulder at the air-hostess.

"The Superbowl," I say the first thing that comes into my head. Alex just stares at me.

"Neither of you follow football," Hilde murmurs, paying more attention to her headphones than to either me or Alex.

"Exactly. That's what we're going to talk about. You know, we're men and we should be doing… you know, manly things… like watching the Superbowl." Now both Hilde and Alex are staring at me as though I've just spouted a second head. There is a voice inside said second head rolling its non-existent eyes at me. "Anyway, you should go. They're boarding."

Hilde gives me a last, strangling hug. "Don't go insinuating yourself into any more families while I'm gone," she tells me with a sly smile.

"Don't worry, I've got enough on my plate with one," I reply, trying not to laugh at the same time as I'm trying not to cry.

Hilde sniffs tragically one last time and they move through the boarding gate. Just before they disappear around the corner, Hilde turns back. "This is your last chance to tell me who you're dreaming about!" she shouts, ignoring the 'tsk' from several other passengers and two formidable-looking flight attendants.

"It doesn't matter," I shout back to 'tsks' of my own. "You were right, it didn't mean anything at all."

Hilde gives me a familiar smug look and then suddenly she's gone. Sniff pathetically, I wipe my nose on my other sleeve; I've never been very good at the whole good-bye thing.

I wait until the dot that is their plane disappears into the grey cloud, then I turn away wishing there was more waiting for me at home than a twisted cat and an un-cooperative heating system.

* * *

I've just let myself into my flat when the phone rings. I make a lunge for it, tripping over two sets of boots and Attila before I manage to get the receiver to my ear. "Hello?" I say just as Attila sinks his claws into my leg in retaliation. I wince through the pain.

"Hi, Duo, it's Sally," her voice vibrates in my ear and I feel a little glow in my stomach.

"Hey, Sally. How are you?" I say, wondering how she got my number.

I must have said that out aloud because she laughs as she says, "I looked you up in the phone book. Heero remembered your address. And I'm fine, thanks for asking. Look, Duo, I'm ringing because Heero and Quatre and Trowa and Wufei and I have this tradition where we go out to dinner once a month and tonight's the night. Obviously Wufei is… obviously Wufei can't come but I'd love it if you would come instead."

I find myself grinning. "Um… yeah, sure… that'd be great, nice, yeah." I wince. Why must I be such a tragic, inarticulate loser?

I can hear the smile in Sally's voice when she speaks again. "Good, I'm glad. It wouldn't be the same without you." There is a slightly awkward pause on my end as I wonder what on earth I can possibly say to that. "Heero will pick you up in an hour. Is that OK?"

I nod and then realise that Sally can't actually see me. "Yep, that's OK," I try again.

"Good, I'll see you soon then." Again I nod. "Bye, Duo."

"Bye," I manage to say before the tone indicates that she's hung up.

I replace the receiver. "God, I'm such an incompetent freak," I say to no one in particular. Attila yowls in agreement anyway, smirking at me. I blow a childish raspberry in his direction and then disappear into the shower before he can utilize my leg as a scratching post again.

I've just wrapped a towel around my waist when I hear the knock on the door. Cursing and dripping water across the living room carpet, I answer.

Heero is standing in the corridor, looking altogether fine in dark slacks and a heavy woolen coat. He gives me a bemused look. "You're wearing a towel," he says and then flushes and stares at his feet. "I mean… you're wearing a towel."

I have to smile. "Yeah, I just got out of the shower. Sorry, I'm running just a teensy bit late. No surprises there… I'm late for everything."

"I'll bet that irritates the Hell out of Wufei," Heero says with a smile.

"It irritates the Hell out of _everyone_," I confirm truthfully.

We smile and nod at each other for a moment and then I remember that we're standing in the doorway and I'm probably looking several shades of ridiculous with this towel around my waist and my hair piled on top of my head in an unflattering kind of top-knot. "Uh, sorry, come on in." I stand back and Heero edges past me. I shiver when the tails of his coat brush against my bare legs and clutch my towel tighter around my waist.

Attila looks up from where he's lounging on the floor long enough to fix Heero with an imperious stare.

"You've got a cat," Heero says and again he flushes. "But then, you already know that. Sorry, clearly I forgot to engage my brain before I came out tonight." There is an odd waver in his voice.

I laugh. "Don't worry, it's a permanent state for me. And this is Attila. He's not quite as gorgeous as Natuku…" Attila bats one eye lazily and flicks his crooked tail. "In fact, I'm fairly sure he's possessed by something evil."

Heero laughs, glances at me and then hurried looks away. "Oh, he doesn't look too nasty," he says, bending down by Attila's left paw.

"Yeah, I bet they said that about his namesake and lived to regret it too," I mutter.

Attila and Heero regard each other for a long moment like two stags about to lock horns. Eventually Attila blinks and very slowly rises up. He sniffs indifferently at Heero's fingers before reclining again. When Heero's fingers extend, dancing down Attila's back in a long sweeping movement he allows it and, after a moment, leans into the stroke. I feel my mouth dropping open in shock.

"I don't believe it. He actually likes you. He doesn't like anyone. He doesn't even like me, and I feed him!" There is a tinge of outrage in my voice.

Heero turns and grins up at me. "Why would you buy a cat that doesn't like you?" he asks as Attila rolls over and allows Heero to tickle his stomach, something I tried once and then never again because I rather like my hands attached to my body.

"I didn't buy him; he came with the apartment," I grumble, hoisting my towel up with a petulant pout. Heero raises one eyebrow, straightening up again.

"He belonged to the old lady who lived here before me," I explain. "He refused to leave when she died. My landlord tried everything to get rid of him and he's still got the scars to prove it."

"Your landlord… he would be the one with the wild hair and the whiskey bottle?" Heero asks, masking a smile.

"Yep, that's Joey. You met him on the way up?"

Heero nods. "I think he tried to proposition me in the stairwell."

"That'd be right. Don't worry, he does it to everyone."

"Oh, and here I was thinking I was special," Heero attempts a wounded look and doesn't quite succeed.

"Oh, I'm sure he meant it with you," I tell him, biting back a laugh. "Anyway, I'm gonna go and get rid of the towel…" Heero's head snaps around in my direction and I flush. "I mean, get rid of the towel and put clothes on instead. Right, yes. So, I'll just do that, then." Heero nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I'll be as quick as I can," I assure him. "Five minutes. Oh, I should re-braid my hair. Make that ten minutes. Fifteen at the most." Heero laughs. "Make yourself at home,' I tell him. "I'll be back in a sec."

I toss on the nearest clean clothes I can find and am thankful when I look in the mirror and discover I don't look like a total fashion-victim/train-wreck. I'm halfway through brushing out my hair when I hear Heero call something from the other room.

"Wha?" I ask, emerging from my bedroom.

I find Heero in the kitchen, looking at the poster cards that line the wall above the oven. He turns when I approach and takes a tiny step back. "I… um… you look different with your hair out," he says softly. He reaches out tentatively, curling a long strand of hair around his index finger. "It's lovely, though." He lets it drop suddenly like he's been burnt.

"Thanks." I wrench the brush through a particularly stubborn tangle. "It's a bitch to look after when it's down, but… gets all tangled and… yeah." I nod and Heero turns back to the wall. "What did you ask before?" I ask, fiddling with the brush in my hands.

He nods at the poster cards tacked to the wall. "I was looking at these and wondering if you'd been to Italy."

He fingers the dog-eared corner of the picture that has always been my favourite. It features a sparkling blue Venetian vista and a gently rocking gondola. And suddenly, here comes the flashback. I push it roughly aside before I remember that Heero's eyes are the exact colour of that perfect, pristine water.

"Nah, I haven't… been to Italy. Father Maxwell went when he graduated from the Seminary. He used to show me these when I was a kid and tell me stories about all the things he did and saw." I glance fondly at the familiar pictures. I can almost hear his voice, soft and rasping, as he described the places he'd been with such vivid accuracy that, when I closed my eyes, it almost felt like I was there… in that gondola.

I can feel Heero smiling at me. "I've wanted to go there ever since. I used to say that I would go before I turned 30." I sigh and start brushing my hair vigorously.

"Used to?" Heero asks in a low voice.

"Yeah, used to. I turn 30 in April and I currently have $78.32 in my savings account. I don't think it's gonna happen."

"Never say never," Heero murmurs. "My mother used to say that and she had a habit of being right."

I manage a grin and start weaving my hair into a braid. I can feel Heero watching my hands as they work.

"You're very skilled at that," he says when I'm done.

"I've had lots of practice," I reply. "Come on, we should go before I make us even more ridiculously late."

At the door, Heero hands me my coat and scarf and gives Attila one last scratch behind the ear. He positively purrs, something I wasn't sure I'd live to see.

"If we run, we should make to the car proposition free," I say when we reach the top of the stairs. "Race you?" I suggest playfully.

Heero raises his eyebrow at me. "Aren't we a little old for that?"

I consider this. "No," I conclude.

"OK, then," he says, already halfway down the stairs.

"Hey, not fair!" I shout, throwing my mittens at his retreating back. He just runs faster and I find myself wearing a manic grin as I hurtle myself down the stairs after him.

The restaurant is an adorable little Thai outfit, tucked away in a secluded corner of the city. It's fairly busy for a Thursday night, full of laughing patrons and hot, steaming, aromatic food.

When Heero and I arrive at the table, Sally kisses us both on the cheek, favouring us both with a weary smile.

"Sorry, we're late. Totally my fault," I apologise as we all sit down.

"It's fine. We've only just arrived ourselves. Quatre needed to get changed," Sally says, sliding a menu across the table to me.

"I was wearing white," Quatre says, pouring wine with a practiced flair. "You can't wear white to a Thai restaurant! It's just begging to get Panang Chicken dropped on it."

"Thank you on behalf of our cleaning lady," Trowa murmurs, not looking up from his menu. "Does anyone fancy anything in particular?"

I consult my menu which seems to be mostly in Thai. "Whatever you guys want. I'll eat anything," I say, closing my menu.

Trowa smiles. "Well, that's easy. Shall we just get the usual?" He looks around at the others.

"That sounds good, except…" Sally begins. There is an awkward silence around the table that I don't quite understand. "I suppose we might as well not bother getting the Yum Goong. Wufei's the only one who eats it." The lines on Sally's face lengthen in sadness and she takes a long gulp of her wine.

"Let's get it anyway," Heero says determinedly, signaling to the waiter.

Sally recovers enough to smile and then even manages a little laugh. "Yeah, let's."

The conversation turns with unspoken agreement away from the absent Wufei, wandering through the troubles of Quatre and Trowa's cleaning lady (who may or may not been pilfering the silver), before veering off into the narcissism of the Chief-of-Staff at Sally's hospital (who, according to Sally, is in dire need of an operation to remove the pole from his arse) and the insufferable arrogance of Treize Krushrenada (with whom Heero met that morning), and finally arrives at the Hilde-related histrionics I experienced at the airport.

"Well, I for one have some sympathy with your friend," Quatre says with a definite nod.

"I resent that!" Trowa replies with mock indignation. "My mother did you the ultimate service by dying before you ever had to meet her."

"Catherine took up the baton, though. The first time I met her was a very traumatic experience!"

"Catherine is Trowa's older sister," Heero explains, bending close enough to me that his hair brushes my cheek.

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Trowa says, hiding a smile.

"She threw a knife at me!" Quatre waves his chopsticks for emphasis.

"She was practicing," is Trowa's mild reply.

Again Heero bends into my personal space. "She's a knife thrower. Has a show at the Casino Royale in Vegas."

"Well, I'm not sure Alex's mother is into knives but apparently she is narrow-minded and elitist and votes Republican," I quote.

Quatre blanches. "Oh, well in that case, I'd go with the knife-wielding lunatic any day."

"Watch it! Cathy's flying in tomorrow and I'll tell her you called her that."

Quatre gives Trowa a wounded look. "You wouldn't." Trowa merely smiles enigmatically and receives a napkin in the face for his troubles.

"Anyway, speaking of relatives flying in Iria and Abdul arrived this morning. You won't believe how much little Ali has grown. Oh, and Iria's going to call you tomorrow," he says, leaning across to Sally to re-fill her glass. "Something about not letting you do all the work like you usually try to do."

I turn to Heero to ask who Iria and Abdul and little Ali are, only to find that he's already looking at me with those blue, blue eyes. "Iria is Quatre's eldest sister, Abdul is her husband and Ali is their son. He's 5." I nod, somehow unable to drag my eyes away from Heero's.

It's only when Sally taps my arm that realise she's been trying to get my attention for, probably, an embarrassingly long time. "Sorry, what?" I mumble into my Panang Chicken.

"You'll be joining us for Christmas dinner, won't you?" she repeats, with a level of confidence in her voice that is enviable.

My mouth drops open in an unflattering goldfish impression while I struggle for words. "Oh, I… um… I should… I've got… um…" I wonder if the dim restaurant light is hiding my blush. "I couldn't intrude like that," I finally manage.

"Oh, Duo, you wouldn't be intruding," that's from Quatre who is regarding me earnestly from the other side of the table.

I clear my throat, feeling very awkward and embarrassed and wanting more than anything to say yes because I can just imagine how wonderful Christmas would be with these people.

"I know but… Christmas is for family and I'm sure I'd just be in the way, hanging around and… besides, I've got a date with the TV and for once Hilde isn't around to make me watch 'Miracle on 34th Street' for the billionth time. Besides, I've got Attila for company."

"Are you saying that you'd rather spend Christmas with a disagreeable cat who is named after a barbaric warlord and is possibly possessed by something evil than with us?" Heero's smiling at me as he says this, I can feel it, and for a moment I want nothing more than to hug him.

"No, I just…"

"You said it, Duo, Christmas is for family. So we'll see you at seven, OK?" There is a charming finality in Trowa's voice that makes me smile and leaves a glowing ball of warmth in my chest. "If you're nice to him, I'm sure Heero will pick you up again."

Heero turns a peculiar shade of pink and then mumbles, "I'll happily give you a lift," before lapsing into silence.

"I'm glad we've got that sorted," Sally declares, smiling at me. "Shall we get the bill?"

I rather reluctantly add my share to the total, not quite wanting the evening to end. There is just something about these people that makes you glad to be with them; that makes you want to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.

Perhaps it's something in the easy conversation or the warm friendship. Perhaps it's as simple as the sense of inclusion they generously extend to me. Perhaps it's… OK, I have no idea what it is, but it's possibly one of the most glorious things I've ever experienced.

Sally and Quatre both kiss me on the cheek when we part outside the restaurant and Trowa pats my shoulder and winks in a very mysterious fashion. I just mumble a goodbye and a thank-you before following Heero back to his deliciously modern car.

Heero is very quiet on the drive home. I steal a look at him when we stop at an intersection. His face is bathed in a red glow from the traffic lights. "Thanks for driving me," I tell him, willing him to look at me.

He does, wearing a tiny half smile. "You're welcome. I'm glad you came tonight. I was… I was worried that it would be odd… without Wufei. But it was nice. Different, but nice." He says this very carefully, fixing me with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah, nice," I echo. By silent agreement, we drive the rest of the way in silence. It's inexplicably comfortable, like I've known him forever.

When we pull up outside my apartment building, Heero turns to me. "I'll pick you up then? On Christmas night?"

"You don't have to," I begin.

"I want to." There is that unreadable expression again.

"OK, I'll see you then, then." I give him a lop-sided grin and he smiles.

"Try to be ready on time?" is the gentle tease.

"I make no promises. Love me; love my inability to be on time ever."

There is an awkward silence in which Heero swallows heavily and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.

"Right, anyway, thanks again for the lift." Another awkward pause envelopes the car while I try to work out how to say goodnight. If it was Hilde I'd throw my arms around her and squeeze her until she knew that I didn't ever want to let her go. If it was Sally, I'd probably kiss her cheek, too inarticulate to express my thanks in words.

With Heero, I just don't know what to do. I know instinctively that a hug isn't the right thing, and Heaven help my already confused hormones if I tried the kiss. In the end I grasp his forearm, trying to pour my words and emotions into that gentle squeeze.

He smiles. "Goodnight, Duo," he says in a very low voice and I nod the same back to him.

I hurry from the warmth of the car to the luke-warmth of my flat. Inside, I draw the living room curtains to block out the cold. I pause when I notice that Heero's car still hovering by the curb, the exhaust fumes gathering in a thick, grey cloud behind it.

The grey tint on the windows is too dark for me to see inside but it stays parked there for several long minutes before it finally lurches away from the pavement and away down the street. I watch it until I can no longer see the red tail lights in the distance and then finally draw the curtains, blocking out the dark, snowy night.

When I tuck myself up in bed, two doonas and a blanket warding against the cold, I sleep the sleep of the deserving, untroubled by dreams of a disturbing nature.

* * *

**Author's Notes: So the sexual tension continues… come on, you didn't really think I'd give in to requests such as 'slash them now, damn it!' so readily, did you? Of course not. Give me a little credit.**

**Thank you heaps and heaps, forever and ever, to everyone who has reviewed this fic. Special thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter more than once in the hopes that that might entice me to get off my arse and do some work. It did work, I assure you.**

**And finally, to those of you following 'A Reason For Me' and losing patience daily, I promise you, I have not abandoned this fic – it will be finished! I am suffering from acute Writer's Block but I am confident of a full recovery. Please stay with me.**

**Cheers again to everyone, you're lovely and brilliant. Please continue being lovely and brilliant by feeding my starved inspiration with reviews... huggles!**


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